


Acceptable Means of Compliance and Guidance Material

by ShippenStand



Series: Low Visibility Operations [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artificial Intelligence, Geek Cameron Mitchell, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M, Mind Control, Original Character(s), Politics, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2020-10-21 19:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 74,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20698673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippenStand/pseuds/ShippenStand
Summary: This is the continuation of the Low Visibility Operations series. It's about two years after "Effect on Landing Minima", and will probably make more sense if you've read the series.Liaison Emmagen, Commander Sheppard, Professor Dex, and Dr. Mitchell of Meropis discover why everyone on Atlantis is unnaturally calm, and the complete threat it means for the Pegasus galaxy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/gifts).

> Updated randomly. Beta and plot consultation excellently provided by mific! All chapters subject to edits and changes for continuity, errors, etc. All comments welcome and appreciated (typos, inconsistencies, suggestions, questions).
> 
> I've never done this posting while writing thing before, so I feel like I'm on the tightrope without a net.

“Jack, most of the video file has nothing on it.”

Jack looked up from the paper file on his desk. Daniel stood in the doorway to his home office. “I kept it on the whole time,” he said. The video and audio recorders had been built into the ribbons for the dress blues he’d worn to Meropis, the anniversary of the official opening of the university there. Or something. Two years or so by Earth standards, and who knew what Pegasus was measuring as important times. “Audio?”

“Got that. Still wish you’d let me come with you. Sending only one representative may have been seen as insulting.”

“They didn’t seem to mind. Lots of other folks from other planets. Couldn’t risk you not coming back.”

“They wouldn’t have kidnapped me.” Daniel ran his hand through his hair in a familiar gesture, one left over from when it had fallen floppy on his forehead. Daniel looked back up at Jack, eyebrows up in a slight question, waiting for him to argue or agree.

“It wasn’t them I was worried about,” Jack said tilting his head slightly toward Daniel, not dropping the eye contact. Jack felt his lips twitch toward a smile. Floppy-haired Daniel would have embedded himself in Meropis in a heartbeat and called it an ethnographic study. Not that Jack would ever let Daniel know he knew what an ethnographic study actually was.

“Jack, it’s the foundations of a new culture. We’ll see how they blend Ancient and Tau’ri and all the planets across Pegasus.”

“Not all of them,” Jack said, glancing back down at the paper file. “The Genii and the rest of those suicidal virus Huffmans--"

“Hoffans,” Daniel corrected, as Jack had expected him to. 

“Well _they’re_ not invited.”

“Right. Specifically because the Meropans don’t want those cultural elements included in the mix. No militarism. No fanaticism.” Daniel nodded, then seemed to come to some decision. “Jack, it’s the chance of a lifetime.”

“Corrigan is sending you reports, isn’t he?”

“Not so much lately. And I have nothing visual but his sketches. Digital video doesn’t work. I’ve never seen this Machina. Any of Meropis. The people and the uniforms and the writing they’re developing.”

“Looks like Atlantis with more wall hangings.”

“Which I want to see. Can I go, Jack?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be following the leads the Meropis AI gave us and getting that weapon for our next invasion.” He raised his eyebrows. "The mythical Ori to be defeated by a weapon from Merlin?"

Daniel finally stepped into the office and sat down in Jack’s reading chair, ignoring the teasing and sinking into the winged sides, only his nose and a glint of light from his glasses visible from Jack’s desk. “They don’t need me for that. From what you learned on Meropis, almost anyone in my department can handle the archeology and Ancient interpretation you might need. Apparently the other me had quite the scavenger hunt to find Merlin’s weapon, but we've almost got a roadmap.” Jack heard a deep sigh emerge from the chair. 

Jack leaned back. “Danny, are you trying to tell me you’re bored?”

“Well,” Daniel started, then trailed off. Jack heard him snort. “Don’t want to invite trouble.”

Jack let himself grimace slightly. “Don’t worry. Trouble is inviting you.”

Daniel leaned forward suddenly, out of his chair and walking toward Jack’s desk with his hand out. They’d worked together too long for Daniel not to know that whatever was in that folder must be the trouble.

“Yeah,” Jack said, handing it up. “I didn’t invite you out to DC just to report to the Pentagon.” He watched Daniel flip open the folder, his eyes back and forth across the pages. “Something’s weird in Atlantis.”

“Weird,” Daniel said flatly, not looking up. “What am I looking for?”

“Nothing.” Jack let himself sigh and sat back in his chair, picking up the stress ball on his desk and tossing it hand to hand, the long-practiced affect of casualness. Daniel wouldn’t be fooled. He’d read the fidgeting for what it really was when he looked up from paging carefully through the file.

“They’re hiding something.” Daniel squinted at the file, twisting his lips. “Everything seems utterly normal.”

“Like that ever happens,” Jack said, watching the squeeze toy arc overheard. “No weird artifacts, no Wraith ambushes. Suddenly they have a charmed life.”

“No new personnel requests.”

“And no one requesting a transfer home.“

“That’s not normal,” Daniel said, dropping the file back on Jack’s desk. “You sending me in?”

Jack caught the toy and set it on the desk. “What if you turn into one of the pod people?”

Daniel considered the file, tapping his fingers on the manilla folder. “Sheppard?”

“Is still in Meropis, far as we know. Been two years now. Lorne rotated out, his request you recall. He was replaced by a guy named Stillwater about six months ago.”

“When did Altantis go Stepford?”

“Gradually after Stillwater came in. When people are rotated off, they come back to the Mountain as ordered, but sometimes they request to stay, and no one asks for transfer out any more.”

Daniel furrowed his brow. “If it weren’t the wrong galaxy, I’d worry about _nishta_.”

“Didn’t they have their own version of that a while back? Someone with a roofie _love me_ drug?”

“His name was Lucius,” Daniel said, glancing up briefly, the lamp from Jack’s desk reflecting on the glasses and obscuring his eye. “Also by inhalation, that one. Sheppard having a cold was enough to protect him.”

Daniel’s memory for disjointed facts was what Jack was relying on here. He put patterns together like no one Jack had ever known before, and years of exposure to it hadn’t dulled Jack’s appreciation. 

“It says here that Sam didn’t notice anything on her last visit.”

“Yeah, I sent her in supposedly to confer with Zelenka and McKay, but mostly I just wanted her bead on the place. She didn’t see anything wrong.”

“Sam’s not exactly a people person,” Daniel said, looking apologetically at Jack. “She’s just not as observant there as elsewhere.”

“She’s good enough to be a good commander,” Jack defended, but he knew what Daniel meant. Sam had military structures to rely on, valued intellect over emotion. “But you’re right. She could see that the personnel patterns are weird, but not why. And when she came back, she said there wasn't anything wrong in the city. She didn't even complain about McKay.”

“What do we know about Stillwater?” Daniel asked. “I’m not familiar with him other than as a name. Ah,” he interrupted himself, clearly having landed on the summary of Stillwater’s service jacket, and muttering, “Helped set up what became Bondsteel in Kosovo. Iraq after that. Spent longer than normal as a Major. Black mark for an incident in Basra.” He looked up. “Usually something that delayed promotion like that would disqualify someone from commanding a base.”

Jack shrugged. “Not my call, and he’s tight with Landry. Also, the incident was technically disobedience, but I think someone threw him under the bus.”

“So you think he’s okay?”

Jack shrugged. “One way to find out.”

“So you’re sending me in?” Daniel looked hopeful, but he kept his eyes on the file he was paging through. “But you want me on Atlantis, right?”

“You get your wish, Danny. You’re going to Meropis,” Jack said, leaning back and watching Daniel, who snapped the file closed.

“Why not Atlantis?”

“Don’t want to risk you. But you’ll gate back to Atlantis to check in every day.”

Daniel stared at him for a few seconds. “You’re going to use the daily check-ins to spy on Atlantis’s systems somehow.”

Jack gave himself a wolf smile. “Sam’s got something cooked up. And they’ve got plenty of ZPMs for phoning home.” 

“And I get to do what I want on Meropis?”

“That, and,” Jack said.

“And?”

“Well, spy, of course. Report back to us what you learn about what’s going on with Atlantis. Make friends with Sheppard and Mitchell. That Emmagen woman, too.”

“What if whatever is going on is in Meropis, too? What if I get compromised?”

“Danny, have you met John Sheppard?”

Daniel considered for a minute and came to the same conclusion as Jack. “Right. And you want to know how the Meropans are reacting.”

“So we’re going to set up our own reporting codes and you get to study the emergence of a new culture,” Jack said, dragging out the last two words, teasing Daniel a bit. Then he leaned forward, reached into another drawer on his desk, and said, “Let’s review comms and options, target information and sideways interrogation.”

“Spy stuff. Right,” Daniel said, taking the chair across the desk from Jack.

Jack breathed in, pulled up his Black Ops self, and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

“Welcome to Atlantis, Dr. Jackson,” Mr. Woolsey said, stepping forward with a hand extended.

Daniel held up a hand, trying to look apologetic and waved. “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t…” He let the words trail off, and gave a sheepish grin. He was avoiding any physical contact on Atlantis in case the problem was a contagion. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Woolsey. I’m sorry I won’t be staying.” 

Woolsey dropped his hand, not appearing to be offended. “Of course.” He nodded over to the technician, someone Daniel didn’t recognize. “Dial site Mu.”

“Mu?” Daniel asked.

“Meropis only has one gate that can connect to it now. We call the planet Mu, like M, for Meropis, but calling it the Mu site made everyone make cow jokes.”

“And Mu was an alternative name for Atlantis or Lemuria,” Daniel said, almost reflexively. He gave Woolsey another brief smile and looked around the Atlantis gate room. Nothing seemed off. It just all seemed calm in a way that Daniel rarely saw at any SGC facility, maybe somewhat fewer people. “Do I have to ship out right away? I’d like to at least say hello to Dr. McKay.”

“Ah, Dr. McKay will meet you on Meropis,” Woolsey said. “He has an extended project with the AI there. Two years in, and they haven’t been able to repair the file structures for Atlantis.” 

“And the records wouldn’t be the same, so just copying Meropis to Atlantis wouldn’t work,” Daniel said, still gazing around the room. “And I guess you wouldn’t want a working AI here.”

“No,” Woolsey said, his voice so mild that Daniel looked back at him. But there was nothing to see. A lot of nothing. Woolsey’s diplomat face was firmly in place. “We’re content for Meropis to be the one thinking city. Atlantis has enough for us.”

“Except a functioning filing system, still.” Daniel shifted his pack on his shoulder, trying not to think about what was in it.

Woolsey’s expression shifted slightly and Daniel didn’t quite know what to think of it. Woolsey said, “Atlantis has enough for us.” His brief smile was close lipped. “Dial site Mu,” he said, louder, turning toward the technician. Back to Daniel he said, “We’ll be ready for your daily check-ins to relay back to Earth.” Again that half smile and unfamiliar expression. “Good luck on Meropis.”

“Thank you,” Daniel said, turning to watch the Atlantis gate dial, the technology more advanced than any of the Milky Way gates. He missed the drama of the spinning naquaddah and the calling of the chevrons. Here, the technician was quiet. The near-silence felt almost awkward, Woolsey standing wordlessly next to him, and everyone in the room barely glancing up at the eventual splash of the wormhole. Daniel turned to Woolsey. “We’ll be in touch soon.”

“Of course.” He still had that same odd expression, one Daniel had never seen on the man’s face. As he stepped through the event horizon, he realized what it had been. Pity.

He had no time to process what that might mean as he traversed the wormhole. There was no thinking in that liminal space of demolecularization, and the fact that humans retained any awareness in transit would forever bother Sam and the other physicists. Daniel came through the worm hole, the realization hitting him that something hadn’t been right on Atlantis beyond the quiet. “Oh!” Daniel said, turning as if he might see through the event horizon back to gate room.

He turned back, to see the guards around the gate, but they were barely paying attention and no one pointed a weapon at him. The gate was inside a large structure, typical of American military temporary bases, the roof a white plastic. It was big enough to house the gate and a few smaller buildings, like sheds or built rooms within a large warehouse. A Marine with ginger hair, what there was to see under his cap was brilliant orange, smiled in greeting and said, “Step aside and we’ll dial you in.” Daniel moved aside, wanting to ask questions, but there was no one near but the corporal at the DHD and he was already inputting the chevrons. Daniel hesitated after the splash, but the Marine made a shooing gesture. “Tell Dr. Mitchell that Corporal Barnes says hi.”

Daniel stepped through the other side into the half-light of early dawn or late evening, surrounded by soldiers with handguns of some kind, pointed at him. The weapons all had the red glow of the pistol Ronon Dex carried. He whirled back around to look at the wormhole again, as if to see back through it, a _this isn’t right_ clawing at the back of his mind. No one had been armed in the Atlantis gate room. There had been no guards there, and the ones on site Mu were relaxed. Daniel turned to face the Meropis guards, part of his brain cataloging their dark uniforms, differences in insignia. Some of them had their eyebrows scrunched in apparent confusion. There was a long pause while Daniel blinked at them, seeing them, but his head back in the Atlantis gate room, trying to make sense of _pity_ from Woolsey, of the lack of apparent military presence in the most sensitive area of the city. Realizing Stillwater hadn’t been there to greet him. So many things that were wrong.

“Dr. Jackson?”

Daniel shook his head to clear it. This seemed all right, the security he would expect. He looked at the guards, the care on the faces of the ones that were not wearing a military stone face or the still confused scrunch of brows at the way he'd spun around as soon as he came through, probably looking like he’d never traversed a gate before. He looked for the speaker and found a young man dressed slightly differently, in a bright blue uniform with yellow piping. It looked like an officer uniform, but the person wearing it couldn’t be more than 19 by Earth standards. Daniel cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“We were told to expect you. I’m Lieutenant Jinto Hallingson.”

“Son of Halling,” Daniel said. “You’re Athosian, but I don’t remember your culture using that kind of patronymic structure. Is it always the father? Do women use the mother’s name?” He stopped himself. “Sorry. Anthropologist.” He took a breath, slotting away the concerns about Atlantis’s personnel, curiosity at this new society, everything else. 

The young lieutenant raised his eyebrows. “We were advised both to expect you and what to expect. Just not when to expect you. Interviews will be arranged over the next few days for you to get your larger questions answered.” At a gesture from Hallingson, the guards holstered their weapons. “I’m to take you to Meropis and Commander Sheppard. Dr. McKay will wish to greet you as well.”

Daniel felt his eyebrows go up of their own accord. “Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered. McKay had never had much patience for the soft sciences. Louder he said, “Is it far to the city?”

“We’ll take a sled,” Hallingson answered, gesturing for Daniel to follow him. Just out of view from the gate hovered a vehicle like something out of Star Wars. 

“You have anti-grav?” Why didn’t he know this? Why didn’t Sam know this? If they were keeping secrets, why were they showing him? Did this mean he’d never leave?

“Indeed,” Hallingson said, impassive like a smaller, paler Teal’c.

Daniel stepped up into the sled and took a seat, settling his pack between his feet.

“We will have to search that, you understand,” Hallingson said, taking the controls. “Dr. McKay will meet us at the check-point.”

Daniel glanced down and swallowed, wondering if they’d take his film camera, if they’d recognize the other devices Jack had given him to try recording. “Sure.” Then he said, “McKay? Is he here permanently?”

Hallingson started the sled, the motion smooth along the wide trail lined by trees. He didn’t answer, and the wind in Daniel’s ears as they accelrated would have made it impossible to hear anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel spent the ride glancing around at the arching trees, the neat brown braid tailing out from under Hallingson’s uniform cap, the spartan interior of the sled they rode. The sled slowed as it rounded a bend in the manicured trail, coming to a stop at what was clearly a guard house. It looked like anyone could drive right through. Daniel wouldn’t have tried it, though, given the technology of the sled and the hand weapons. There was nothing visible barring the trail, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something there. A guard wearing the darker uniform stepped out, greeting Lieutenant Hallingson by name, adding, “Dr. McKay is on his way from the city. He should be here in 10 minutes.”

“Thank you, Fourth Wex.”

Daniel decided not to stop himself. “Fourth sounds like a title. Are these gradations of rank?”

“Why, yes.” Hallingson got off the sled, putting a hand up to offer Daniel help in stepping down. He didn’t take the assistance, but stepped off the sled with a hop, reaching back in for his pack. Hallingson didn’t seem to take offense, continuing, “We combined several traditions. Some rank names come from Satedan culture, some from the Tau’ri, some from the Travelers.”

“You have Travelers here? I didn’t think they liked to leave space.”

“They don’t, but they send Engineers here for training, a few for teaching.”

“What do they teach?”

Hallingson gave him a polite expression, his face too young to have that _And we are done with questions I will answer_ expression Daniel mostly knew from senior diplomats and military. He accepted it and didn’t push, thinking about why Hallingson seemed so wise beyond his years. Daniel had made the mistake of comparing him to a young man from Earth, but Jinto son of Halling of Athos had seen the waking of the Wraith, the destruction of his people, and was likely in the inner circle of Meropis, despite only ranking as a lieutenant. Sheppard had met Jinto on his first gate mission in Pegasus, Daniel remembered, as kid of about 12. 

Hallingson said, “I recommend you unpack everything for inspection. It will save time.” 

Jack had expected they would require this, and the one thing they didn’t want found was a miniaturized microfiche camera built into the heavily padded straps of Daniel’s pack. It used film, and Daniel intended to take two sets of notes, one in a journal the Meropans could read, and one he would photograph in miniature and then destroy. He hoped McKay wouldn’t find it, but he wasn’t sure. 

There was a long and deep shelf built into the wall of the guardhouse, and Hallingson gestured for Daniel to place everything there. Daniel stacked his spare clothing, amused at himself for making sure his underwear was hidden in the middle. He laid out a film camera, digital audio recorder, empty hard- and spiral-bound notebooks, flashlights, a headlamp, allergy pills, power bars. He was supposed to stay for ten days, and if he’d packed for a little more than that, no one with gate experience would question his instincts. 

-0- 

Rodney loved driving the hover cars. Everyone else followed Sheppard’s lead and called them sleds. Rodney admitted the name fit, but wouldn’t use it, just to spite Sheppard. He’d been on Meropis for two weeks or so, and the fresh air and sunshine must be getting to him because an underlying discontent was building. Why would he have to come out to inspect Jackson’s pack? He had important work to do and Meropis had only become more interesting over the last few days. 

Mitchell and Sheppard had ganged up on him about it, Mitchell with logic and Sheppard with what Sheppard would deny was a pout. Yes, Jackson was coming from Earth. Yes, Meropis was trying to keep some of its secrets, still, although letting Jackson know about the hover cars wasn’t exactly subtle. Yes, Rodney had a better chance than anyone from Pegasus at spotting something. 

They came around the curve to the guard shed. Rodney knew it looked antiquated, but he also knew about the net of sensors. Most of Meropis was buried, but Rodney had figured out just how much of the city had been brought on line in the last two years. The city’s life signs detectors had been repurposed to watch for intruders, and the nodes that made up a fascinating stunner net were placed all around the periphery. Rodney wasn’t sure if he wasn’t supposed to know about those, or if the Meropans knew that he knew and pretended they didn’t. Any place where security was organized by John Sheppard and Cameron Mitchell, freed from American military mindsets, was going to have so many layers and twists. 

Rodney had asked Machina if it wanted to come along. He could have used the company and Jackson could have started his anthropology-gasm on someone else instead of Rodney. But the AI had said no, and smiled at Rodney’s grousing. 

Rodney hit the brakes. Well, they weren’t brakes, really, because there was no physical contact for slowing down, and shut up brain. Layers and twists. They wanted him alone with Jackson before Jackson came to the city. Jackson hadn’t stayed on Atlantis at all. Rodney hadn’t been on Atlantis in weeks, and there was always something more to do here, no crises on Atlantis to call him back. It was weirdly quiet. Meropis was determined to be quiet, but Atlantis rarely was for long. Come to think of it, Zelenka hadn’t been hounding him for results and information they could apply to Atlantis’s systems. 

There was a slight hum from the stopped car, a gentle bounce as Rodney shifted in the driver’s seat. He took a breath. Why did they want him alone with Jackson? Why not meet him or have a Meropan meet him? They probably wanted Jackson to suss out Rodney with no distractions. Why would they need that? Rodney sat back in the car. The discontent under his skin was familiar, was what drove him. Where had it gone so that he would notice it coming back? Why wasn’t Zelenka curious about what he found? Rodney tried to think back on his arrival to Meropis. It had been … nice. The people had been … nice. He’d gone for long walks, enjoying being on land instead of ocean. Eventually he’d gotten to the job at hand with the AI. 

Holy crap, he’d been in rehab. But for what? 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my utter delight, mific stepped up to provide beta before I post. They gave me comments and corrections on the previous chapters, and this one will have so many fewer errors, thanks to mific!

Daniel didn’t restrain himself from running his fingers over the thick straps of his pack where the microfiche camera was hidden, but he continued over everything else, picking up one of the blank notebooks. The best way to keep others from focusing attention on something was not to ignore the thing but to treat it like everything else, to misdirect toward something else. Jack had taught him that years ago.

He did restrain himself from snorting, though, when it hit him just how much black ops training Jack had given him over the years, doled out as circumstances warranted. It came up in mission planning, briefing, and mostly in debrief discussions of what to do differently next time. That night in Jack’s office had been the first time Jack had been explicit about it, and Daniel had felt more like he was being reminded than being tutored. And all of it had felt like applied anthropology. 

A low whine preceded the arrival of another one of the hover car things, McKay at the controls, his face full of thunder. He looked about the same, hair a little thinner, the aging lines more pronounced because of the expression on his face. Daniel braced himself for a McKay rant about the waste of his time, but when he parked the sled and stepped out, he simply nodded in Daniel’s direction. “Dr. Jackson. It’s been a while.”

Daniel blinked and stepped toward McKay, his hand out. “Dr. McKay. Colonel Carter sends her regards.”

“Does she?” McKay said absently, shaking Daniel’s hand as if by rote, but not dropping his hand in the usual time, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Daniel withdrew and stepped toward the shelf attached to the guard shack. “My things for inspection.”

McKay seemed to pull himself out of his distraction. “Right. Excellent use of my valuable time,” he said, but Daniel heard only a trace of the usual arrogance and irritation. McKay left the clothing alone at first, snorting in humor at the film camera, leafing through the notebooks. Then he stopped, shook his head, and walked back to the hover car to retrieve some gadget. He went over everything with the machine. Daniel felt a point of tension hit his gut and start to spread as McKay moved down the line of his possessions. He paused over the straps of the backpack where the microfiche camera was hidden. “Nice. Why did you hide it?” he asked, glancing up at Daniel.

Daniel swallowed back the knot that had risen from his gut to his throat. He went for truth, or at least enough of it. “No electronic video has ever worked in Meropis. We figured it had something to do with Sheppard’s security paranoia.”

McKay nodded, pointing the machine he held at the bag that held Daniel’s toiletries and allergy medications. “Mitchell, too. He seems like a simple guy, but he’s really not.”

Daniel schooled his face. That was such a non-McKay thing to say. “So, are they going to take it from me?”

“No idea,” McKay said, “but I’ll tell them it’s there and let them decide.” He looked over at Hallingson, who stood within earshot, clearly listening. “What do you think, Jinto?”

“Mostly concerned that he concealed it, like those cameras in the General’s decorations,” Hallingson said. “That doesn’t seem very friendly.”

“They don’t want pictures of Machina getting out, or the hologram me from the future. Or some of the other work they’re doing here,” McKay said, and Hallingson nodded.

Daniel went for more of the truth and added some diplomacy. “Most of what I’m interested in is the culture you’re developing, and only how the technology impacts it. Meropis has been more than generous in sharing technology with the Milky Way. If there are specific no-go areas or things you don’t want me to record, I can agree to that.”

Hallingson answered. “You’ll have to work that out with the Commander and the Director. And with Liaison Emmagen.”

“Understood,” Daniel said. 

“Everything else pass, Dr. McKay?” Hallingson asked, and when McKay nodded he turned to Daniel. “Please show me where the hidden camera is.”

“Here,” McKay said, running his finger along the lines of the section of strap. 

Hallingson snapped out a knife and Daniel’s gut clenched as he cut the strap from the bag. McKay picked it up and felt down the strap, nodding as he apparently felt some of the machinery. He took one end of the strap and slapped the other palm with it, making a thunking sound, and then looked at Daniel. “You knew we would find this.”

Daniel took a breath. “I had kind of hoped you wouldn’t,” he said, which was the truth, but not all of it. 

McKay just nodded. “Let’s go.” He turned toward the hover car.

Daniel hesitated, feeling like there was something he should say to Hallingson, like _Thank you_ or _Nice to meet you_ or _Nice job slicing up my gear_, so he settled on, “Thank you for the lift.”

Hallingson gave him a nod worthy of Teal’c, but Daniel was sure he saw something in his expression that combined humor and distrust. He deserved the distrust, given the hidden equipment, so he gave back a smile that seemed wan even from the inside, and followed McKay into the hover car. He was comfortably seated, his pack at his feet, when McKay hit the accelerator, Daniel’s head jerked back with the sudden motion, and he looked at McKay, who had a fairly blank face. 

“So,” Danial ventured, “how are things?”

“In what way?” McKay answered. 

“I don’t know,” Daniel said. “Maybe that’s just a general opening for potential conversation?”

McKay visibly took a breath. “How did you find things on Atlantis?”

Daniel considered for a moment. “Fine,” he said, but he put a lilt of question at the end.

“Right,” McKay said, full sarcasm in bloom. “Vaunted anthropologist notices nothing odd in human behavior. What did you think of the Mu site?”

“Site Mu?” Daniel says, repeating what Woolsey had called it. “Seemed a little, I don’t know, laid back?” McKay nodded, as if Daniel had confirmed something. Then a thought struck Daniel. “Mr. Woolsey said that it was the only way to reach Meropis, that they had locked their gate. But really, it’s the only way for Atlantis to reach Meropis, isn’t it?”

“Not as dumb as you look,” McKay said, the old insulting tone seeming to come more from habit than anything else. 

“So, yes, Atlantis did seem less tense than a typical SGC site, but they haven’t had any real crises for a while, right?” Daniel said, speaking as if he believed the reports, but more to see how McKay responded.

It took a while for McKay to speak, and when he did it was a straightfoward question. “Are you here to spy on Meropis or Atlantis?”

“Spy?” Daniel asked, stalling for time.

“Spy,” Rodney said, taking one hand of the controls of the hover car to grab the strap Jinto had cut from Daniel’s pack. “This isn’t exactly subtle.” He slapped it down on the bench between them. “And Jack O’Neill doesn’t let you out of his sight without a very good reason.”

“Want to tell me what you’re thinking?” Daniel asked. “How long have you been gone from Atlantis? Woolsey said it was an extended project.”

“Did he?” McKay said. “I thought it was just a couple of weeks, but now I’m not so sure.” McKay glanced over, his expression pinched, the tight-lipped slant of his mouth like a pencil line.

“Rodney,” Daniel said, the idea that McKay had lost time felt like someone had pulled a Jenga stick out of his model of Rodney McKay. “What’s going on?”

McKay tilted his head. “How long were you on Atlantis?”

“Literally minutes. I gated from Earth, asked after you, got told you were here, and gated to the Mu site. Someone named Barnes told me to say hello to Mitchell and they dialed the gate here. That was it.”

“So whatever’s going on there, you probably weren’t affected.”

Daniel sat up a bit straighter, then tried not to show it. “Affected by what?”

“Whatever ridiculous thing is going on there that made me take hikes when I first got here because it was _pretty_,” McKay said, spitting out the last word.

“Whoa, Rodney,” Daniel said, seeing what might be underneath the vehemence. This was more than losing time and McKay hated the idea of anything impacting his intellect. “You think there’s something influencing everyone on Atlantis, but that time away clears it up?”

“See. Not as dumb as you look.”

“You just figured this out yourself.” Daniel was sure of that, but then he realized what he had responded to. "I mean, not about me not being dumb, but that something's influencing Atlantis personnel."

McKay snorted. “On the ride over, it hit me. Anyone could have scanned your stuff. They wanted me alone with you.”

“Stop the car,” Daniel said. He wanted to finish this conversation before they got to the city.

McKay slowed the car, pulling it off the green trail. When it stopped, he hit some control and then turned in his seat to face Daniel. “What are you thinking?” he asked, his expression as blank as Daniel had ever seen it.

“My guess is they don’t trust you and they don’t trust me.”

“So why not keep their eyes on us both? Oh,” McKay said, not waiting. “It’s Sheppard. He figured you would see if I was different, and if I was no longer compromised by whatever is going on in Atlantis…”

“You would see if I was, and if we were both still compromised…”

“We’d say everything was hunky dory,” McKay said.

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “If you’re saying _hunky dory_, I’m gonna have to say I’m still not sure about you.”

McKay rolled his eyes and turned back to the controls. “So what do we do?”

“Compare notes the rest of the drive, and tell Sheppard everything.”

McKay looked at him sidelong, barely turning his head. “Including why O’Neill sent you here?”

“Especially that,” Daniel said, Jack’s advice ringing in his ears. _If they think they’ve found out your secret, they won’t go looking for another one._


	5. Chapter 5

The secret mountain opening was like something out of a movie, and Rodney would never not love it. He still felt a visceral fear, the body not catching up to what the brain knew, every time he pointed the hover car at that one particular not-an-aspen that marked the center of the hangar door and the hologram illusion. The hover car’s telemetry panel affirmed that the Barn door—Mitchell’s name—was open to the big hover car space. When the door was closed, there were three not-aspens projected in the hologram.

The conversation with Jackson had both reassured and unsettled him at the same time. There was clearly something influencing those on Atlantis. He had no idea how long he’d been on Meropis and he had no idea how long Atlantis had been compromised. His head felt clearer, but he planned to look at some of the Ancient systems to see how much he still understood, maybe ask Zelenka to send the latest physics journals. He needed to benchmark his intellect.

He heard Jackson take a breath as they crossed the threshold. “I heard there was a cloak over the whole city. Why shield this, too?”

“I’m not sure,” Rodney said. He thought about what the reason might be as he guided the car up, and the only thing he could come up with was Sheppard's paranoia. Someone could be inside the cloak, and never know the opening was there. He guided the hover car in toward the cradles. There were about ten per level and three levels so far. About a third of the cradles were empty right now, and Rodney hit the control for the automatic docking program, which slid them into a cradle on the second level. The area reminded him of the puddle jumper bay in Atlantis, but bigger, half of it devoted to manufacturing and repair. Each docking station was bordered by a thin ramp leading to a wide catwalk that ran across the back wall. He stepped out holding the loose strap, waited for Jackson to get his pack, slinging it over one shoulder with the remaining strap. “I’m supposed to take you straight to Sheppard and Mitchell,” he said, turning to head down the stairs toward the main floor, not looking to see if Jackson followed. There really wasn’t anywhere else to go.

Jackson wasn’t behind him when he reached the floor. Rodney looked up to find him squatting at the end of the ramp by the hover car, his pack open on the car seat and a notebook balanced on his knee. He was looking around the docking bay, sketching and making notes. Rodney looked up to see what he saw, trying to imagine what Jackson found so fascinating about what was essentially a garage. They could see out through the holo-illusion to the low valley, and muted natural light hit the shiny and matte surfaces in the engineering bay, and Rodney’s brain served up classic Feynman diagrams of photons interacting with matter, and he knew he wasn’t seeing the same scene as Jackson, not in any way at all.

Jackson would see the people, the activity, the physical structure as an artifact with form and function, maybe even meaning. He would see all the overt and subtle cues of the cultures the technicians had left behind to be part of Meropis. It was all the things that were immaterial to Rodney. Literally not material. But looking with a sense of Jackson’s eyes, he imagined the different cultures like wave forms, coming together and creating new harmonics, the Ancient technology like a fundamental frequency. Maybe physics and anthropology weren’t that far apart. Maybe engineering approaches had cultural referents. And that hillside, visible outside the Barn doors, really was pretty.

Rodney shook his head hard to clear that thought. He called up to Jackson, “We’ll let you come back. Let’s go.”

Jackson closed the notebook with a snap and tucked it inside his jacket. A few moments later he clattered down the stairs, pack over one shoulder. “Sorry,” he said, grinning at Rodney. “There’s so much going on there!” He gestured at the working hover car garage. 

“Yes, mechanics building and repairing,” Rodney said, shooting for dry and ending up somehow choked on his own recent musings. He really had to get himself together. “Sheppard and Mitchell, the Commander and the computer geek. Maybe Teyla. Liaison Emmagen.” He turned and strode toward the hallway that led to the transporter for this floor.

“That’s a translation of her real title, though, right?” Jackson asked. “In English liaison means communication or cooperation, except when the connotation is for illicit sexual relationships. Which,” Jackson held up a hand as Rodney glared at him over his shoulder, “would not be the context here. So I assume that means she’s the main broker for cooperation among the various Pegasus societies participating in Meropis?”

“I would think that’s obvious,” Rodney said. He remembered a bit about the early days of Meropis, back when he still thought maybe Sheppard and Mitchell would come back. They had joked about Teyla as queen of Meropis, but she refused any notion that she was a monarch, someone who could lead by fiat. But lead she did, from behind and beside, not from berating and bullying like Rodney had always done.

Rodney stopped short. Was he a bully? He was brutally honest. It’s not like he made people wear their underwear on their head to the mess hall. 

“McKay. Rodney!” Jackson’s voice pulled him out of his train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Rodney looked at him for a long moment, considering. “I can’t tell. Probably not. I keep thinking things I’m not used to thinking about, like pretty trees and how you see the world and whether or not I’m--” He cut himself off, taking a breath. 

“You’re what, Rodney?” 

He thought, _Whether I’m mean_, but he said, “We have a game plan, remember? Sheppard now.” Rodney snapped his fingers and pointed down the hall. “Now.” He started walking quickly, not looking at Jackson when they reached the transporter, setting the controls for the military wing. When the door opened, he started to stride out, but Jackson put a hand on his arm.

“McKay, we know something is in the air on Atlantis, and you said you’ve lost time and are just coming out from whatever it is. Give yourself a break. It’s going to be weird. Is there anyone you can talk to?”

Rodney shook his head. He didn’t want to talk with anyone, and squeezing the strap he still held reminded him that Jackson likely wasn't to be trusted. And the _feelings_ kind of talking wasn’t going to help him. He wanted to talk about work and science. He just wanted his brain back. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The uniform looks like this [cosplay offering](https://aestheticcosplay.com/products/fullmetal-alchemist-amestris-state-military-uniform-roy-mustang-and-riza-hawkeye). And OMG [mific made art!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21195107)

Cam rolled in to the room where John was waiting for McKay to come back with Jackson. Jinto had radioed ahead about finding hidden film equipment in Jackson’s pack, and from the glance John spared him, he wasn’t pleased at all. Cam took a moment to think about what Jackson would see when he walked in. John leaned on the desk he rarely sat behind in a fairly large office in the military wing of the city. His mouth was a hard line under his trimmed beard, wearing his full uniform. Cam wasn’t sure if anyone but him and some of the people back on Atlantis would recognize an Amestris uniform, right out of Fullmetal Alchemist, but Cam had got John to agree with it for officers, right down to the butt cape for formal occasions. Teyla had approved because it looked like nothing else she had seen in Pegasus, and John had gone along with it even as he ribbed Cam for watching cartoons. And then he’d insisted on seeing the whole series from Cam’s Server of Geek Media, as they called it, and ended up liking the story even more than Cam did. Cam kind of loved his husband for going with it, and damn if he didn’t look dashing in that getup. 

“You ready?” John looked over and nodded. “Not happy about this,” Cam said, and John shook his head no. “If it weren’t for the weirdness in Atlantis,” Cam started and trailed off. John’s eyebrows twitched and his mouth became even thinner. Good thing Cam was versed in Sheppard not-speak. “Yeah. You want me to handle Jackson?” John didn’t answer, just looked away toward the door where Jackson and McKay would come in. “You’re right. If he’s trying to sneak tech into the city, we need to put a bit of the fear of the Commander into him.” John raised both eyebrows a fraction, glancing at Cam and then back to the door. “Right,” Cam answered. “Jackson’s not afraid of anything.” He let out a sigh, heard John snort softly in response. It was good to know they were in agreement. 

They heard the arrival in the anteroom, Jackson putting down his pack and McKay blustering at Silno, a Geldaran man who had come to Meropis in the early days. The noise didn’t resolve into words, but Cam glanced at John before rolling to the door and palming it open. McKay’s rant stopped immediately, and he hung back to let Jackson enter first. 

He hadn’t known Jackson much in his days in the mountain. The man had visited Cam to pay his respects, but there had been something aloof about him even then. Maybe distracted was a better word. He’d sent his report on the modularity of Ancient computer systems and hardware back to anthropology with his observations about how that might tie into some cultural need for a lack of permanence. Someone other than Jackson had thanked him for his insights. And here was the man himself, thrice dead, looking around as if trying to memorize the decor. He probably was. 

McKay came in behind him, quieter than Cam expected. He’d been through some changes since coming from Atlantis, and something in his expression told Cam he’d made some progress even since this morning. 

“Artoo,” McKay said, greeting Cam first. 

Cam felt John freeze. McKay hadn’t made any reference to Star Wars or other Earth pop culture since he’d arrived, shown no interest in Cam’s cache of movies and series from Earth. He’d gone for walks, placid and admiring the landscape. It had been so weird. “Dr. McKay,” Cam answered, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice, “thanks for scanning Dr. Jackson.” He wanted to ask McKay how he was, but with Jackson in the room, he wasn’t going there. Time to just watch. 

John said, “Dr. Jackson.” He didn’t put out a hand. 

Jackson didn’t either, smiling slightly and nodding his head. “Commander Sheppard. Thank you for letting me visit Meropis. I’ve already seen some fascinating culture blends, just in the walk from the hover car bay. This is such an amazing natural laboratory. I can’t wait to get started.” 

“He already did,” McKay grumbled. “I kept having to pull him away from wall hangings to get him here.” He held out a strap, clearly cut from a pack made on earth. “I’m sure Jinto radioed to tell you about this.” 

Cam rolled over to take it from McKay. Tech was his realm. John said, “This does complicate things.” 

“It’s just a film camera, microfiche. Digital video doesn’t work here, and I really want to be able to document the city, the people.” 

“Corrigan drew a lot,” John said. 

Jackson pulled out a notebook from his jacket. “Me, too, but it helps to have a more accurate record.” 

McKay burst in. “Yes, yes, we will deal with the new, improved _spy_ version of Jackson, but can we please talk about Atlantis?” 

Cam glanced at John. His eyes had widened and he’d straightened a fraction. Yep, McKay was almost back to normal. All John said was, “What’s wrong with Atlantis?” 

McKay snorted and then crumpled. “I don’t _know_.” 

Jackson reached out as if to put his hand on McKay’s shoulder, and then pulled it back. “What do you remember?” 

“I didn’t want to come here, but I couldn’t say no to Sheppard. I mean, it’s Sheppard, and even in the fog I was in, I knew he mattered.” 

“Was it like the Second Childhood?” John asked. 

Cam remembered that story, the parasite in McKay’s brain, but McKay was shaking his head. “That? No. More like everyone was on the good drugs.” 

“Lotophagoi.” 

Everyone looked at Jackson. “Reference?” Cam asked. 

“Greek, the Lotus Eaters. There’s part of the Odessy that no one remembers because there are no monsters or beautiful women involved. Odysseus lands on an island and some of the crew eat a plant the locals give them. Scholars assume it’s the opium poppy. Tennyson wrote about it. _There is no joy but calm! Why should we toil…”_ He trailed off. “In my brief moment on Atlantis, I was trying to figure out why Woolsey seemed to pity me.” 

“In the story,” John said, his eyes on Jackson in that way Cam knew meant he was carefully not looking at McKay, “Odysseus had to haul the men back to the ship and chain them to their oars.” 

Jackson nodded, saying, “They had decided to stay on the island, keep eating the lotus.” 

“So what’s the lotus on Atlantis?” John asked, finally looking at McKay. 

McKay was flushed, a blush of embarrassment moving up his neck. “I don’t know. I must have looked like such an idiot when I got here.” 

Cam kept his thoughts to himself, but John let himself smirk. “Oh, yeah. If I had to hear about another pretty sunset, I was gonna go send you to work on the farms.” 

“It wasn’t my fault!” 

Jackson interrupted the rant McKay was building to. “So what caused it? Is causing it? I came through the Alpha site, and it’s just as bad there.” 

“They rotate through on a short schedule,” John said. Cam knew it was three days, but John must have a reason for not telling Jackson. “It took McKay over three weeks to get clear.” 

“Welcome back, McKay,” Cam said. 

McKay gestured at his head. “I don’t know that I’m all the way back yet.” 

“Drugs?” Jackson asked. 

Cam answered, glancing first at John to see how far he could go. John raised his chin slightly. Okay, so the short version. “We couldn’t find anything off in his blood work other than unusually low levels of markers for stress," Cam said. "Brain scans showed lower blood flow to the neocortex. But we don’t really have as much medical expertise here. The Hoffans are the best in Pegasus, but…” 

“Not welcome here, as I understand it,” Jackson finished for him. 

“Right," Cam said, thinking that Jackson had done his homework. "So there may be drugs we can’t detect because we don’t know what to look for.” 

“And you can’t send anyone into the city to find out,” Jackson said, nodding. 

“Because they’ll be affected,” McKay said. “Even _I_ was.” 

“What can you remember?” John asked. 

McKay scrunched up his face as if with effort. “It’s a haze. Everything was just fine. Nothing was urgent. I took naps.” He looked up, shock on his face. “Naps! I never have time for that. I repaired systems if I had to, but… Nothing. No work, no crisis, no nothing.” He looked at Jackson. “We talked about it on the way here. They’ve noticed, back at the SGC.” 

“And that’s why you’re really here? To find out what's wrong on Atlantis?” John asked, looking at Jackson with his eyebrows at half mast. Cam knew he was expecting a lie. It was John’s pre-emptive _oh really?_ face. 

Jackson gave him a wan half-smile. “It’s the reason Jack finally let me come.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Rodney walked through the corridors, heading for the transporter that would take him to the hologram room. He really hated seeing the older version of himself in the dumpy sweater, lines on his face and liver spots on the holographic hands. He didn’t understand why it wouldn’t update itself, or just look like Machina, the mobile version of the AI. And even though it and Machina were coming off the same platform, they talked differently. Machina was more diffident than the _hologram of the great Dr. Rodney McKay._

When he reached the room, he paused and took a breath, searching in his head for what he might know or think. Something to tell him he was himself again, not that placid, stupid thing he had been for so long. How long? He shook his head to clear it, opened the door, and stepped inside. The hologram did not instantly activate, so he walked over to a console, found the controls, and summoned his doppelganger.

It didn’t say anything when it appeared, not his usual greeting and the whole _great Dr. Rodney McKay_ crap. It wasn’t even looking at him. Rodney cleared his throat. “Hello.”

The figure turned toward him. “Hello, Dr. McKay.” The expression stayed flat, very unlike its usual demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” Rodney asked.

“How could anything be wrong with a hologram representing an artificial intelligence?” it said, voice mild.

“You know something,” Rodney said, “don’t you? You knew what was going on when I got here. That first conversation.”

“I knew you were not yourself. I had been warned, but the reality of the great—“

“Yeah, yeah, cut that part. What did you see?”

The face gave a twitch of an eyebrow, a quirk of the slanted mouth. Finally some expression! The hologram said, “You were gentle. Placid. Not the fierce intellect on which I am based and who Machina had come to know.”

“And did you know why?” Rodney said, rolling a chair around to sit in front of the figure of his older self, crossing his arms and staring it down.

The figure frowned toward the wall, head cocked, as if thinking, _processing_. “Perhaps.”

“And you said nothing because?” It didn’t answer, lips tightening as if to keep the words in. It was a strangely human expression, but the hologram had more tells than Machina. Rodney felt heat rising in his chest, a familiar emotion he hadn’t felt in far too long. Anger. He kept his voice low, not giving in to his desire to shout, but he couldn’t stop the tight snap. “Out with it. It was my brain it affected. It’s affecting everyone on Atlantis. I have a right to know.”

The figure shook his head. “The Meropans shouldn’t know about this.”

“Well they already know something’s wrong on Atlantis!” he snapped.

“The potential for misuse—“

“It’s already being misused!” Rodney shouted and threw up his hands, pushing the chair back on its wheels. The hologram blinked, a parody of surprise. Rodney took a breath to calm himself, dissatisfaction skating under his skin, the familiar need to know. “What is it?”

“No one should know about it. The Ancients forgot it.”

Rodney crossed his arms again and glared at the hologram. “But you know what it is because you have access to all the city’s systems. Stop dragging it out.”

A softer voice answered, “It was made for children.” Rodney turned to see Machina walking in, the robot, mobile version of Meropis’s AI. It looked up at the hologram with its serene face, a hologram in the otherwise empty front of its head-piece, the strange joints showing through the open shoulders of the uniform shirt. It stepped into the room, gait mechanical but smooth, never taking its eyes off the hologram, which was looking down with its mouth twisted.

Rodney looked away, feeling his own mouth twisting down. He hating seeing the expressions he knew were modeled on his own. Then he processed what Machina had said. “What do you mean, children?”

“I disabled the one on Meropis on my way here,” Machina said, still looking at the hologram, which had crossed its own arms. After a pause, the hologram untucked one hand and waved a gesture to continue. Machina nodded, then turned to Rodney. “As part of their desire to reach ascension, the Alterrans taught their children to meditate. The machine was only ever meant to be used for short periods to help the young ones.”

Rodney felt himself grit his teeth. “Of course it’s about ascension.” He glanced between the hologram and Machina. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

The hologram huffed. “We weren’t asked.”

“And we didn’t know to look for something until just now,” Machina said. “We searched the database as you were speaking.”

“We,” Rodney said. “Aren’t you the same AI?”

The hologram held out a hand and wagged it back and forth. “Eh.”

Rodney sat back in his chair, torn. This was one of the fundamental questions he’d wanted to explore on Meropis, and for the first time that he knew, an avatar of the AI had admitted they might not be identical. But the bigger problem was Atlantis, specifically whatever this stupid machine was that had made him like _sunsets and long walks on the beach_, for crying out loud, and who the hell had turned it on. “Can it be activated by accident?”

Two voices said, “No.”

“So someone on Atlantis did it on purpose.”

“Likely,” the hologram said, “but it could have been some moron who didn’t know what they were doing, thought it didn’t work, and left it running.”

“We only know about it from Meropis’s files,” Machina added.

Rodney shook his head, disbelieving, except yes, this was so like the Ancients. “So it’s a baby-calming device?”

Machina smiled with a small curve of its mobile lips and said, “That would somewhat understate the purpose.”

The hologram gestured, its voice matching the dismissive move. “It’s almost like the Ancients wanted their children to work toward ascension before they could even walk.”

“But as they had fewer children, they did not need the machine,” Machina said. “It’s called a meditor.”

“And you know where it is in Atlantis?”

“If it hasn’t been moved,” the hologram grumbled. 

Rodney caught a look between the robot and the hologram, something his brain knew was superfluous, so presumably for his benefit. “What?”

“While we have been talking,” Machina said soothingly, but who it was trying to soothe, Rodney or the hologram, he couldn’t tell, “we have searched in Meropis’s files. The meditor should only affect a room, not the whole city.”

“Which means,” said the hologram, still tetchy, “it's probably been moved and modified. Someone’s doing this on purpose.”

A thought struck Rodney. “Why are you just searching your databases now? Why not when I first arrived all…" He gestured at his head. "You must have noticed I was different.”

Machina walked closer to Rodney, glancing once at the hologram. “We have not been focused on Atlantis. We have been very busy with Meropis.”

“It’s not just the city operations, you know,” the hologram said, a lilt of superiority in its voice. “We help with farming operations, mining, the sh—“

“The shops where the hover cars are built,” Machina concluded. “Meropis is independent. Our main goal is to protect ourselves.”

“That’s why you restricted the gate to one site for Atlantis, site Mu,” Rodney said. “You’re protecting Meropis.”

"That wasn't us," the hologram said, "but we're not sorry about it." 

“And no one on Atlantis is coming to harm,” Machina said, its voice almost serene.

“Or so we thought,” said the hologram. Turning to Machina it said, “How can it not be harm if the great Dr. Rodney McKay spent months as a _moron_?”

Rodney resented the word, but he was more fascinated by the apparent disagreement between the two avatars of the AI. His alternate future self had built a limited AI in the hologram, but since joining with Meropis it had all the city systems to build complexity. But the city had built the body for Machina, and the robot was integrated completely with the city. Slightly different nature, slightly different nurture, somewhat different conclusions. This meant a lot, and he wondered how much Mitchell had thought about it--he was the computer scientist, after all. Rodney felt himself twitch, torn between learning more about this meditor thing and going to talk with Mitchell about his findings on the AI. Or was it AIs, plural?

“Dr. McKay?” Machina’s smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. “Were you harmed?”

Rodney blinked, processing the question, then drew in a breath as the answer pulled anger from his core. They had violated his mind. “Of course I was!” He heard the twist of emotion in his voice, something more than anger. Fear. “I can’t go back there.” Recognizing fear made his chest even tighter. Zelenka, all of them, _eating the lotus_ as Jackson had said. “We have to save them.”

“If humans go to Atlantis,” the hologram said, “They’ll be affected.”

Machina's head turned to the hologram so fast Rodney's neck tensed in sympathy. Then it looked away, stood very still, and its holographic face faded, leaving an empty blankness. Its smooth voice said, “No."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is an official Beta Appreciation Note: I'm really lucky to have mific along on this ride!
> 
> (And also a nod/appreciation to ivorygates, for reasons she will immediately identify.)

Jack had long ago explained the Moscow Rules. He had never explicitly said why he knew them, but Daniel was pretty sure it wasn’t from spy novels. There were a couple of different versions of them in popular culture, and they didn’t exactly match Jack’s wording, even if they shared sentiments. Sheppard’s demeanor in their first meeting underscored Jack’s first rule: _Always assume it’s enemy territory, even if you’re supposed to be friends._ That was why Jack had let him come, wasn’t it? Part of it? To find out just how much the Meropans were or were not their friends.

It was hard to keep that in mind with Mitchell’s open face. “Here’s your digs while you’re here,” he said, opening a door and gesturing Daniel in ahead of him.

Daniel said, “Thank you,” and walked into the room. The layout reminded him of Atlantis, but the decorations and furnishings were very different. The bed, desk, and chair were all Pegasus made, not Alterran. A wall hanging caught his eye, different from the ones in the hallways, colors more the reds and browns of a people who used only natural dyes. Blues were always so much more expensive, more difficult to make.

“You could at least put your pack down,” Mitchell said, startling Daniel slightly. Some spy he was. He hadn’t even been aware of Mitchell coming into the room. Daniel could almost hear Jack sighing at his desk in the Pentagon.

“Sorry,” Daniel said. He set his pack on the bed. When he realized Mitchell wasn’t leaving, he pulled out the desk chair and sat down. “I guess this is where you give me the rules?”

Mitchell made an equivocal noise. “And maybe where you tell me the truth. Jack O’Neill could have sent someone else. He sent you. He wants us to know he means business. What’s _his_ business?”

Daniel let himself push up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, giving Mitchell an obvious tell to hide Daniel’s real tell, which would be to go still. And he was ready for this question. _The best way to lie is to tell the truth, just not all of it._ How many times had he heard Jack say that? “Meropis’s attitude toward the Milky Way,” he said. Mitchell’s eyebrows went up a fraction. “I mean, yes, I get to study Meropis, and yes, he wants to know what’s going on with Atlantis. But that ties into it. Maybe you’re content to have Atlantis effectively off the board so you can consolidate your power here.”

Mitchell tilted his head slightly, eyebrows up a fraction, but Daniel only read curiosity, not fear or nerves. “Well, if that’s the case," Mitchell said, "he took a huge risk sending you.”

Daniel shook his head. “Not really. You know Jack would go to war with you if something happened to me and Meropis was responsible.” Mitchell snorted, and his hand went to his wedding ring. “Like Sheppard would for you, I bet,” Daniel said.

“True,” Mitchell said. Then he turned his head so he could look at Daniel almost sideways. “You _sure_ you and Jack aren’t a thing?”

Daniel closed his eyes. Everyone made assumptions about him and Jack. “Brothers. Brothers in arms, in everything.”

Mitchell nodded once, accepting, and changed the subject. “So how are things back in the Milky Way?”

“Surprisingly quiet. The biggest threat is the Trust, which we keep breaking up and it keeps resurfacing under new names, with new Goa’uld partners.”

“Yeah, we heard about that thing with Caldwell last year. Tried to blow up Atlantis. I went back to help them un-fuck their computer systems. As much as one can, there.”

Daniel tucked away the idea that Meropis would help Atlantis. Jack would want to know. Aloud he said, “That was yet another wakeup call, one of our own snaked with a Goa’uld. We need subtler weapons, better detectors. Meropis might be able to help. But we don’t know what your position is, your…” He shrugged slightly as if to minimize it, but this really was the crux of the matter. “Your ambitions.”

Mitchell leaned back in his wheel chair. “You realize we’re basically a university, right?”

“A university that has enough investment in the military to have specific uniforms.”

“Well, that was my idea,” Mitchell said, his face somewhere between a fond smile and a smirk. “I just thought John’d look good in a butt cape.”

“Butt cape?” Daniel repeated, confused. “Oh, the skirt thing around the legs.”

“And you should put that anthropology brain to use,” Mitchell said. “We have resources everyone else wants. We share knowledge freely, but we won’t let anyone else have the city. Those uniforms are a sign to visitors.”

Daniel nodded, annoyed at himself for missing it. He had too many things to juggle in his head right now. “Of course. But back to the question at hand. Atlantis. We’ve had no one transferring out for the last four months,” Daniel said. “Jack and I wondered if there was _nishta_ involved with what’s wrong in Atlantis, but the women seem equally affected.” Daniel shifted in his chair. “And that brings me back to my question. Will you help me find out and maybe fix what’s going on there?”

“Well, I don’t think McKay's going to drop the subject, so yes, I expect we’ll help some.” That didn't sound like a resounding agreement to Daniel, so he looked at Mitchell with his best _Tell me more_ expression. Mitchell took a breath. “Oh, hell, might as well lay out some more cards. We’ve already talked about it, been talking about it. We realized it was serious when we sent someone there for a two-week stint three months and they never came back, just sent a note that they’d decided to stay.”

“Who did you send?”

“One of the Traveler engineering students, a few months ago. They sometimes do internships with McKay and Zelenka. And that’s when we knew there was a real problem. Travelers don’t like to stay dirtside.”

“So you put up the buffer site. Mu.”

Mitchell shook his head. “They did. Before. Or maybe in the early stages. Hard to tell.”

Daniel folded his arms, part of his brain wondering what he was guarding himself from. “They told me it was a problem with your gate.”

“They locked our address out of the Atlantis gate,” Mitchell said. “But they don’t call us much even from the Mu site, and we try not to go to the city for more than a few hours.” He shrugged. "Not that they've invited us and not that we really want to go there right now. 

“But before that?” Daniel asked.

“Up to Caldwell trying to blow them up, relations were fine. Then Lorne decided to leave and got replaced with that guy Stillwater. Everything got a bit more, well, paranoid, I guess you’d call it.” Mitchell shrugged. “He didn’t know us and didn’t trust us. He set up the relay site. But they’ve basically shut down gate travel. We haven't heard about military teams going out much. Some weird rumors about art recently. John insisted we get McKay out if we could, after Kerin didn't come back.”

"Kerin was the engineer," Daniel said, and Mitchell nodded. “Well, this is going to make me reporting in difficult.” Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Jack wanted me to check in every day.”

“All that energy to dial between galaxies just to say hi?” Mitchell asked, raising an eyebrow. Daniel shrugged, unfolding his arms with a gesture meant to take in Jack, Sheppard, all paranoid partners. Mitchell nodded once. “Got it. Maybe call him tomorrow and make it weekly.”

“And what do I tell him about Meropis? Where does Meropis stand in relationship to the Milky Way and the SGC?”

Mitchell looked at him for a long time before answering. “If I said that was above my pay grade, you’d likely not believe me.”

“You _are_ married to the military commander.”

“And provost of the university,” Mitchell said with grin.

“Not president?”

“Nah, we don’t need a fundraiser, just someone to wrangle the professors, figure out the academic stuff.”

Daniel knew the conversational turn was meant to get away from the question. He had a letter in his bag addressed to Liaison Emmagen proposing the opening of diplomatic relations. Up to this point, Earth had pretty much ignored Meropis, other than to accept Sheppard and Mitchell’s resignations. Things at the SGC were relatively stable. The weapon against the mythical Ori that the hologram of McKay had outlined for Jack was coming together nicely, but finding the pieces wasn't really a priority. The hologram's warnings had rattled Jack, but the Ori were still a galaxy away.

Daniel eyed Mitchell thoughtfully. The weirdness in Atlantis meant there was no buffer between Meropis and Earth, diplomatically. What did Meropis really have? Did their relationship with the Travelers mean they had ships? Sure, he wanted to study the city and the melding of cultures, but Jack wanted to know what they were doing with the technology. Daniel suspected hover cars were just the tip of that iceberg.

“Speaking of academic stuff,” Mitchell said, “I have a class to teach in data structures and algorithms. See you later.” He rolled toward the door. When it opened, Daniel saw a uniformed soldier, a woman, fairly small. She looked Athosian, if he had to guess, but he didn't know Pegasus as well as he should. “Selana’ll be here to guide you wherever you need to go,” Mitchell said over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Daniel said reflexively. He wasn’t surprised they were guarding him. He wasn’t surprised Mitchell hadn’t answered his question. 

He opened his pack to sort his things for a longer stay. Then he sat at the desk, wrote for several minutes, then aimed the camera in his jacket button at the paper to take a picture.

-0-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the timing of events in this universe is a bit different.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yet more thanks to mific!

“You can’t go in there!” Rodney ignored the person outside Sheppard’s office and skidded to a halt in front of the closed door. He reached out to palm the sensor, but it didn’t open. “I told you! Dr. McKay, please!” 

Rodney spun to face the voice and recognized the brown hair and caesar cut of Silno, John’s Geldaran assistant. “I need to see him. I figured out what to do!” 

“About what?” Silno looked both confused and placating. 

It was the placating that set Rodney off. “Atlantis!” He took a breath, then deflated when the door to Sheppard’s office opened. 

“It’s okay,” Sheppard said to Silno. “Come on, Rodney.” Sheppard turned back through the door. He’d lost the butt cape thing and was in just uniform pants, boots, and shirtsleeves. His usual saunter was slower than usual, heavier. Rodney followed him in, his excitement—was that the word?—at a possible solution draining away with Sheppard’s mood as he sat in the chair Sheppard indicated. Rodney wondered if he would have even noticed how someone else was feeling, before, much less been affected by it. Much less question his own emotions. 

Sheppard closed the door behind them and leaned back on his desk, arms crossed. “So, what’s got you all worked up?” 

“Machina,” Rodney said, because he couldn’t deal with those other thoughts. “Machina won’t be impacted by the meditor.” 

“The what?” Sheppard said, with almost a sigh of frustration. 

“Sorry, two steps back,” Rodney said. “I went to see the holo-me and Machina came in and we were talking about what’s going on in Atlantis, and they’re pretty sure it’s a machine-induced calm, something the Ancients made to teach children how to meditate early so they could, I don’t know, reach Ascension before puberty, I guess.” He took a breath, realizing he'd been talking non-stop. “A meditor, they called it. The machine. For baby, um, meditation.” 

Sheppard’s lips quirked. “Welcome back, McKay.” Rodney huffed, but part of his brain was processing how he might have handled that better than an info dump. Sheppard said, “So we turn off this machine and Atlantis goes back to normal?” 

“Yes, to the point as usual, Colonel,” Rodney said. Sheppard stiffened; he hadn’t been a Colonel for a long time. “Commander,” Rodney corrected hastily. “Sorry.” Rodney waved at his own head. “Still playing catch-up. But essentially, yes. We turn it off, they 'wake up'. If I’m anything to go by, though, it will take several weeks for them to come right.” 

“And we won’t know why it was turned on in the first place.” 

“It couldn’t have been an accident,” Rodney said. “Machina told me—or maybe that was holo-me—that the original design was just for a single room. It’s been modified to broadcast to the entire city.” 

“So someone’s doing this on purpose.” John uncrossed his arms, leaned his hands down on the edges of the desk, and rocked back slightly. It was such a Sheppard move, and Rodney slotted it into a list of Sheppard’s silent vocabulary that he hadn't even known he had. 

“John,” he said, hesitating even to ask, not expecting an honest answer. “What’s wrong?” 

Sheppard snorted, his head tilting back like his breath was a tiny thruster. “Not much I can tell you. City business. Happy to have you back. Not happy to have Jackson lying to us. Not happy to have Atlantis fucked up.” 

“Lying to us?” Rodney said, catching onto the one thing he could respond to. “Why do you think that? He was pretty open with me on the ride back from the guard shack.” 

“Was he really?” Sheppard said, “or did he just tell you what he wanted you to know?” Sheppard shook his head. “He’s Jack O’Neill’s proxy, and O’Neill’s nickname isn’t _Batshit Jack_ for nothing.” 

“I thought O'Neill, you know, _rushed in where angels fear to tread_, or something.” 

“He always has more than one thing in his head,” Sheppard said. “His plans have plans, and even those have contingencies.” Sheppard moved to the chair behind his desk and sat down heavily, picking up a stylus and dropping it on its end on the desk, caged by his fingers, watching it bounce. “We were meant to find the first camera.” He looked at Rodney. “Did you scan him, or just his stuff?” 

Rodney swallowed. “Just his stuff.” He sat back, looking at John, who was bouncing the stylus again. “The clothes he was wearing, something he might have swallowed…” 

“Yeah.” Sheppard grabbed the stylus. “He’s got two obvious reasons to be here, another two I can pretty much guess.” He tapped the surface of his desk. “It’s the reasons I _can’t_ see that bother me.” He shook himself. “So, Jackson's reason number two is to be poking his nose in Atlantis.” 

Rodney shook himself mentally and got back to the subject. “If we can get Machina onto Atlantis, it won’t be affected by the meditor. It doesn’t want to go, but maybe if someone went with it. And we’re not even sure how long it is before the… the brain whammy takes effect. Maybe…” Rodney swallowed down the fear that bloomed up again at the thought, “Maybe that should be me. I can say I’m coming back for some equipment, meet with Zelenka, and then come back.” 

“Too risky,” Sheppard said. “If someone's doing this, they’ll probably know you’re out from under the influence.” He nodded, “But Machina is a good idea. Think you can convince it?” 

-0-

Cam waited outside as Ronon’s class on Comparative Poetic Structures broke up, watching the students and their mix of expressions, from boredom to thoughtfulness. Ronon used this class to show commonalities across Pegasus culture, delved into the roots of the planetary differences. The engineers didn’t understand why they had to take it, but it was an important mental exercise in getting to the _why_ of a problem. Several of the students greeted Cam as they walked by. Finally Ronon emerged, the long tunic and loose trousers he now favored flowing behind him as he moved. Cam turned toward John’s office and Ronon fell into step. “University business or politics?” Ronon asked. 

Of the two, Cam vastly preferred teaching computer science and running the college, but after a couple of years establishing Meropis, and as the spouse of the military commander, he’d learned a thing or two. “John’s waiting for Teyla to get back, maybe in a couple of days, and we’ll lay it out for her,” he answered, not slowing his roll. “We should check in with him.” Cam was acutely aware of being in a public corridor, so he kept his voice light. Teyla had messaged that she'd be delayed getting back from M6R-867, but that things were going well with the Genii. Cam knew John was unhappy about having to deal with Jackson when Teyla was away. 

Cam really wished he’d known Jackson better, because he was having a hard time reading him. Teyla’d suss him out in an instant, but she wasn’t here. Ronon was, though. “Maybe you should take Jackson out to dinner,” he suggested. “He’ll want to know about the classes you’re teaching. Maybe you can see what you think of him?” He glanced up at Ronon, who nodded. 

“Yep. Only met him a couple of times. Reminds me of McKay.” 

“What?” Cam stopped his wheels. He’d have never made that comparison. 

Ronon turned after he’d gone a couple more steps, realizing Cam had stopped. “Same focus,” he said. “Single-minded. He performs…” Ronon gestured between them, more like his old self than Professor Dex. “You know, human stuff. Interactions. He’s smoother at that, but it’s like something he paints on so he can get what he wants.” Ronon shrugged. “McKay doesn’t have that fake coating, so at least you know for sure what you’re dealing with.” 

“Huh,” Cam said, trying to absorb this new idea as they went into a transporter. Ronon wasn’t wrong. He put his hands back on his wheels and started moving. “So you’ll see what you think?” 

“Yeah. He won’t expect me to be subtle.” Ronon’s grin flashed and he followed with his strange battle cry for analysis over violence, something Cam had heard from him often. “Teaching poetry woke up everything in me past survival.” Ronon grinned again. “He won’t know what didn’t hit him.” 

“Oh to be a fly on that wall,” Cam said, grinning back. They came out near John’s office, and Ronon led the way. The the Meropis Council had John’s strategy and paranoia, Teyla’s political savvy, Larrin’s Traveler sense of the galaxy as a whole, and Ronon’s combination of ruthlessness and a poetic sense of justice. Ronon saw connections and leverage points that even Teyla sometimes missed. And that thought brought Cam back to the start of the conversation. “Teyla said two days. We should have a pretty good sense of what’s going on by then so we can come up with options.” 

“Hi, Silno,” Ronon said to John’s assistant. 

“The Commander is in with Dr. McKay,” Silno said, a question in his voice about whether they should be disturbed. 

Cam and Ronon shared a glance. Cam said, “I think we’ll join them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has stuck in my head from way back in Atlantis fandom that at least one person in fandom wrote Ronon as a poet before entering the Satedan military.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience and thanks as always to mific who finds both glaring and subtle errors and makes them better.

“Dr. Jackson.”

Daniel turned to see who had called his name. It took him a moment to recognize Ronon Dex. His hair was shorter and he no longer wore the leather and obvious weapons. His outfit was more like a monk’s tunic over loose trousers, with sandals instead of boots. His tattoos peeked out from under the sleeve of the arm reaching out in greeting. Daniel shut his field book and looped the elastic to keep it shut, then held out his hand to shake. “Ronon Dex. They told me you were here. What are you teaching?”

Ronon smiled as he let go of Daniel’s hand, and the wolf grin was at least familiar from years gone by. “Poetry.” Daniel blinked. He hadn't expected that. “Don’t worry. I also run the combat club and drill the defense force in guerilla tactics. That’s more what you expected, right?”

“Apologies,” Daniel said, letting his chagrin show. “I shouldn’t have stereotyped you.”

“Most people did,” Ronon said. “It was easier that way.” He turned to Daniel’s escort. “I have it, First Selana. Go eat.” The small, uniformed woman who had guided Daniel around the city nodded and turned away. Ronon looked behind Daniel to the wall hanging he’d been sketching. “You’re really interested in those.”

“Most of them seem to tell stories,” Daniel said, turning back to the tapestry. “Some of them seem the work of a single culture, and some seem to include multiple or blended motifs. I’m trying to trace the origins of some of the symbolism.” Ronon snorted, sounding amused and a little scornful. Daniel frowned, turning defensively to say, “These are fascinating records—“

“We hung that one last month,” Ronon said, a smile quirking his lips. “You could just ask the artist.”

Daniel felt his jaw drop. It hadn’t occurred to him that these makers were _living_, which was so stupid because of all the work he’d done with living cultures on SG1. But most of that work was spent relating the living cultures to the historical ones on Earth. Meropis was something completely different, which he’d known in his head, but it hadn’t really changed his habits. He closed his mouth, whirling back to the hanging.

“Why do you have so many hangings?” he asked, looking at the embroidered gate ship with new appreciation.

“The Manarans really like them,” Ronon said. Daniel glanced back to see if Ronon was joking, but he just looked fond. “And everyone else is fine with it.”

“I see,” Daniel said, but he wasn’t sure he did.

“Walk with me?” Ronon asked.

“Sure. Where to?” Daniel tucked his field notes into a jacket pocket.

“Dinner. You realize you’ve only been here one day, and it’s past evening meal?” Ronon still seemed amused.

“That late?” Daniel had lost track of time, but at the idea of food, his stomach made itself known again.

“Come on,” Ronon said, turning, “and while we eat you can ask me anything. The comparison of poetic structures across planets is pretty interesting, and I mapped historical trade routes through common story motifs. If you want, I’ll share the paper with you.” He headed down the hallway and glanced once to see if Daniel was following.

Daniel trotted to catch up while he re-re-calibrated his view of Ronon Dex. “I'd like that.”

“There’s a version in English on one of the servers, but the original is in Satedan.”

“Why?” Daniel asked, and then cringed. “Sorry.” He glanced up at Ronon as they walked.

“Reasonable question.” Ronon shrugged. “Satedan literature was much more interested in situated language than most other planets. It impacts how we write and think about things, so some of the concepts don’t translate that well. And if we’re the Library of Pegasus, we want to preserve as much as possible of our differences.”

Daniel nodded; that made sense. Then something Ronon had said struck him. “And English is the common language?”

“Seemed reasonable. It doesn’t belong to Pegasus.”

“Why not Ancient?”

“Oh, everything important also goes into Ancient for long-term records, but no one speaks it.” Ronon looked at Daniel as they walked, eyebrows up as if waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” Daniel said. “Religious taboo.”

“Yep. So let’s have dinner, and you can ask me anything. I mean,” Ronon grinned wolfishly again, pausing at a set of doors then opening one to reveal a mostly-empty dining area, “might as well find out what else you’ve got wrong.”

-0-

“I can hear you thinking,” Cam said. He rolled onto his back and pulled John until his head rested on Cam's chest and he could card his fingers through the ridiculous hair. John’s arm lay across Cam’s body, fingers curled loosely around the other bicep.

“It’s been a day.” Cam could feel John’s breath as he sighed. They were quiet for a minute, then, “Did you talk to Ronon?”

“Yeah. He let some of Jackson’s assumptions alone. Jackson’s got no clue about the shipyards and the off-world work.”

“Any sense of what he wants?”

Cam considered, wondering in part why John didn’t wait and talk with Ronon in the morning. Then he answered his own question. His husband’s brain almost never shut down, and right now it wanted more information to work through. But John needed sleep, and Cam knew the best way to knock him out. He put on a playful voice. “What do I get if I tell you?”

John’s fingers tightened briefly, then Cam felt John’s hand slide up past his shoulder, the fingertips circling Cam’s ear, soft and teasing. He turned his head on Cam’s chest, seeking out a nipple with his tongue. Well, that hadn’t taken much of a suggestion. Then John settled himself on Cam’s chest again, hand sliding back down his arm and resting on Cam’s wrist, fingers curved under. Cam felt the callouses scrape a bit as John traced nonsense on the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist, a promise of other, more intimate touches to come.

“Can we skip to that part?” Cam asked, his breath hitching.

“Nope,” John said, kissing Cam’s chest. “We made a bargain.”

“Fine,” Cam grumbled. “He wasn’t kidding about Earth opening direct diplomatic relations. They want a back channel of communication that bypasses Atlantis, and they hoped our gate would be able to dial the Milky Way.”

“It could if we powered it. Connected it to Meropis again.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that, and Ronon didn’t let on. He’s doing typical anthropology things, but what he thinks he’s seeing is probably different than what O’Neill will be looking for.” John made a questioning noise. Cam said, “He might be able to figure out what we’re doing.”

“Soft power,” John said.

“Yeah. Teyla was right about the visiting teachers program. And the portable consoles Machina designed.” Cam continued petting John’s hair for a moment, but John didn’t say anything. “Ronon thinks someone like O’Neill will figure it out.”

“From sketches of wall hangings?”

“Apparently Jackson was going on about the blends of cultures he could see, and the Manarans do like their stories.” He kissed the top of John’s head. “I know you didn’t really plan to build an empire, but we’re kind of on that track.”

Can could feel John swallow. “Atlantis going quiet didn’t hurt.”

Cam nodded, even though John couldn’t see. “Was nice not to have that particular bull in the china shop for a bit, but we do need to find out what’s going on there. Find out who rigged the meditor.”

John nodded against his chest and said, “What'd Ronon say? Jackson...?”

“Ronon thinks O’Neill thinks _we_ might have been behind it, but he doesn’t think Jackson knows that. Jackson needs to go report in from Atlantis tomorrow, so we can nip that one in the bud.”

“And McKay thinks we should send Machina to find the thing and turn it off.”

“Not a bad idea.” Cam sighed. “But Machina doesn’t want to go.”

“And Teyla’s still with the Genii.”

“Yeah, no decisions until the queen returns.” Cam carded his fingers through John's hair, and gave a slight push. "Now, I believe you owe me."

John pushed his head back against Cam's hand, shifting on the bed to take a nipple gently in his teeth for a moment. He let it go with a flick of his tongue and looked up at Cam. John's eyes showed more green in the iris than usual. He looked at Cam for a long moment, his expression flickering with minute movements of his eyes, ending in his eyebrows up a millimeter or two.

"Yeah," Cam said, reading the silent language of John Sheppard. "We'll be okay." He traced fingers down the side of John's face and through his beard, returning his gaze and letting everything he felt show in his eyes. After a moment, John glanced away, down Cam's body, and kissed everything he saw.


	11. Chapter 11

McKay had been quiet on the ride out to the Stargate. He parked the hover car at the guard shack before they reached the gate, close, but where it could be hidden from anyone coming through the ring. Daniel stepped out of the car, feeling it bounce as he shifted his weight to the ground. The guard nodded to McKay and went back to watching the screens in the shack.

The discussion with Sheppard and Mitchell that morning hadn't been easy. It had included Machina, who told him about the meditors, the machines that were meant to teach children to meditate, but probably what were being used on the Atlantis personnel. Machina had said the effect on young minds was immediate, but that adults needed long-term exposure. As they'd seen from McKay, the longer-term the exposure, the longer it took to wear off. Machina had said that twelve hours in Atlantis would probably be safe, but they had agreed to keep Daniel's visit to three.

The rest of the discussion had been focused on tactics—what Daniel should tell Jack, what he could say in front of the Atlantis personnel, what he should do if invited to stay, what planet to gate to if things went utterly sideways and he had to get away. Daniel had no idea what to expect. Just yesterday morning he had gated to Atlantis, out to site Mu, and then to Meropis. It’s not that Daniel wasn’t familiar with eventful days, but he’d had a lot fewer of them in recent years.

He glanced up at McKay, who was now standing by the side of the car and looking at Daniel, his gaze sharp.

“What?” Daniel asked.

“They’re trusting you, you know,” McKay said, folding his arms.

“I’m sorry?” Daniel said.

“They let you into the city. They’re not stupid. Even with the whole hidden camera thing.” McKay pulled his folded arms around himself more tightly, protectively. “It was meant to be found, the camera in your pack strap. When you come back from Atlantis, I’m going to have to search you again, and this time I’ll search all of you.” He untucked one arm, slightly relaxing his tight hold on himself and gestured up and down, from Daniel's head to his feet and back, before tucking his hand away again. 

Daniel didn’t know what to say to that, and he wasn't sure why McKay was so defensive. He tried not to let anything show on his face, but he could feel his eyebrows rise a fraction, so he went with it. “I’m not exactly good spy material, McKay.”

“Actually, you’re perfect,” McKay said, finally unwrapping his arms and straightening his shoulders, raising his chin. “I would be, too, I bet.” And there it was, something that had been under the surface but now came out with all the McKay arrogance, the _I could do your job, too, if I lowered myself to your level_. “I mean, both of us professionally ask questions and investigate things. Also, people are used to us seeming distracted—no one expects us to be paying attention. And arguably I’d be better at hiding technology.”

The opening was too good, so Daniel took it. “Then why don’t Earth video cameras work on Meropis?” Daniel asked. “Could you get around that?”

“Of course,” McKay said, turning with a dismissive snort to walk down the wide path to the Stargate. As Daniel started to follow, McKay stopped and whirled around. “That was an attempt to get me to tell you something about Meropis’s technology!”

Daniel grinned. “Of course. See? I’m bad at this. I couldn't even get Machina to let me send specs on the meditor device.”

McKay gave one of his superior-sounding hums. "Maybe they don't trust the SGC that much." That thought hit Daniel hard, but he couldn't argue the point, not honestly. But before he could say anything, McKay turned serious and a little sad, an unfamiliar look on him. He reached out, holding a flash drive. “For Radek.”

Daniel nodded and took it, sliding it into his satchel. From the strategy discussion, he knew the drive contained obvious data from Meropis, some breadcrumbs to see if the Atlanteans would take the bait and go off world so the Meropans could question them, scan them. There was also some spyware, and Daniel had to admit that there were some things McKay was very, very good at. “I’ll be sure it gets to him.”

McKay turned away and called to the guard at the DHD, “Dial Mu. Expect Dr. Jackson to return within 12 hours. Let Sheppard know when he gets back, or if he doesn’t get back in 12 hours.”

Daniel fidgeted with the strap from his satchel, then to still his hands, thrust them into his pockets. His fingers drifted over the two button cameras. He’d tried to put everything he’d learned on the near-microscopic film, pictures of pages from his field notebook, but he didn’t know what Jack would make of it. He took his hands out of his pockets and touched the new buttons on his jacket where the originals had been. If McKay scanned him with his field jacket on, they’d find them, and all his backups sewn into the inside.

He hadn’t really paid attention to what was going on around him, so the whoosh of the wormhole surprised him. Pegasus gates were so silent compared to Milky Way’s. Daniel turned back to McKay. “See you in 3 or less.”

“Be careful,” McKay said. “They really didn’t want me to leave Atlantis to come here. I can remember that now.”

“If I don’t come back, send the Marines,” Daniel said, joking, but not really.

McKay sneered. “Meropis doesn’t have Marines.”

Daniel glanced at the gate guards and wasn’t so sure about that, but he turned to the gate and sent his temporary IDC. When he had clearance, he walked through to the Mu site. Here there were definitely Marines, looking at him, but only with mild interest. One of them said, “You’re not who we were expecting.”

“Uh, Daniel Jackson,” he said, coming down the ramp inside the large temporary building. He heard the sound of the wormhole disconnecting. “Who were you expecting?”

“Dr. Kusanagi’s team.”

Daniel searched his memory. She was one of the Atlantis scientists, but he couldn’t imagine her on a gate team, much less leading one. And the Meropans had been pretty sure Atlantis wasn’t sending anyone out. He didn’t have anything sensible to say, so he said, “Oh, um, sorry. Any chance you could dial Atlantis for me?

“Let’s have you wait for her and you can go back together.”

“Yeah,” said another Marine, and then his voice shifted as if quoting something. “You shall proceed in company.” He ended with a short giggle, and it was so incongruous, Daniel didn’t know what to think. Then he realized the burly marine was quoting Winnie the Poo, even trying to do the voice.

Daniel carefully smoothed his face. “Sure, I can wait. Got any coffee?”

The Marines were friendly. He tried to take note of their names, Salazar, Mobley, and Johnson, who had quoted Winnie the Pooh. They led him to the shed he had spotted the first time, a building inside a building. There was coffee, Marine Corps black and strong enough to hold up a spoon. No one engaged him in conversation, just smiled at him with gentle expressions that spooked Jackson because Marine faces usually wore scowls or looked like granite, especially in uniform and on duty.

Daniel sat on the folding chair and put his coffee on the card table. He pulled out his field notebook with the pages he didn't mind others reading. The ones for Jack’s eyes had been destroyed after he'd photographed them. He reviewed his notes, thinking about what he had learned from Ronon Dex, and something stood out.

_WH 24: repeated stargate/gateship motif @ edges. Middle pic looks like temple floorplan. Inner temple has jagged design typ. Ancient tech. Central object of worship? Figures in vestibule and inner temple. Manaran record of ?_

Daniel glanced at his sketch of the design and felt the blood drain from his face, seeing the jagged design and the layout with new eyes. Before he could solidify the thought, the gate activated. No one responded with much apparent concern, so Daniel tore the page out of his book and stuffed it into the pocket with the button cameras, downing the coffee before walking out to watch the gate.

A small Japanese woman came through, flanked by two Marines. Kusanagi’s team, it must be. Behind them came a third Marine pushing a closed box on wheels down the ramp.

“Hey, doc,” Johnson called. “Leave us some of that for a barbecue?”

“Of course,” said Dr. Kusanagi . "I know how Marines love to eat." 

“Mmm. Rhunock,” said another. “I’ll go fire up the smoke pit.”

The Marine pushing the box opened it, and the copper smell of blood hit Daniel’s nose, distracting him from Kusanagi. They pulled a haunch of something skinned and bloody out of the box and carried it out of the building.

“Dial Atlantis,” Kusanagi ordered, facing the gate.

Daniel approached until he was about six feet behind her. He cleared his throat. “Dr. Kusanagi?”

She whirled around in surprise, and then visibly brought herself under control, her face smoothing out. “Daniel Jackson. What a lovely surprise.”

“I was planning to come through to Atlantis with you. General O’Neill expects a report on Meropis,” he explained.

“Meropis,” she said, blinking her eyes once, slowly. “I would like to visit it.”

“Were you on a trade mission?” Daniel asked.

“Of a sort. I have taken up sculpture in my spare time. We have more of that now, with things being quiet.” Kusangi’s face seemed serene. “Mr. Woolsey and Colonel Stillwater have allowed me to share it with our friends off-world. Sometimes they give a tribute in return.”

It was an odd choice of word, but Kusanagi’s accent was still fairly strong. Perhaps her use of English wasn’t particularly colloquial. He gestured back the way the Marines had gone with their haunch. “Seems like this is a popular meat.”

“Oh, yes,” Kusanagi said as the gate wooshed open. “Shall we?” She sent her IDC, and Daniel followed her into the wormhole.

In a moment he was in the Atlantis gate room. No one took particular notice of their arrival. Woolsey looked up from his desk in the glassed-in office on the second level, glanced at Daniel and nodded to Kusanagi.

“Take this to the kitchens, please,” she said to the Marines, and the one pushing the cart peeled off with a soft smile.

"No infirmary visit?" Daniel said. They were mandatory at the SGC, and he assumed they would be here. Kusanagi waved it off, and the gate technician shook his head with an amused smile. Daniel was at a loss as to what to do. He had no status to ask that they dial Earth, but Woolsey didn’t seem at all interested in him. He shoved his hand in his pockets, finding the paper and the two buttons. One button held his original report, the other a hastily written description of the meditor device, and a warning not to send any personnel until a way was found to counteract it. Perhaps he should just give the order to dial. Or ask it as a question. "Would you please dial Earth for me? I'm supposed to check in with General O'Neill."

The technician raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and glanced up at Woolsey, touching his radio. "Okay to dial Earth for Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel looked up at the glassed-in office and saw Woolsey's mouth moving as he nodded. The technician started to put in the 8 chevrons. 

“Would you like to see my sculptures?” Kusanagi asked. Daniel was surprised to realize she hadn't left. 

Daniel blinked. “Yes,” he said, and meant it, because it was odd and worth looking into. “I need to check in first."

She cocked her head and dipped her chin. "Of course," she said, as if giving permission. He recalled her as meek and retiring but she sounded confident, almost arrogant. Odd. Maybe she'd picked up some of McKay's mannerisms.

"Radio contact established," the technician said. Daniel spoke to the tech at the SGC and within a few minutes they had him patched in to Jack. Daniel had rehearsed what he could say in front of an audience, especially this audience. He wasn't exactly sure how to get the buttons and paper through the wormhole, but given how uninterested everyone in Atlantis seemed to be, maybe he could just toss them through.

"Danny, how's it going?" Jack's voice came through the comm speakers. "They treating you all right?"

It was the first code phrase. Daniel had several possible answers, meaning everything from all clear to goat fuck. He chose two. "They're very welcoming in Pegasus. Food's okay, too." He'd just told Jack that he thought they were hiding things but that he wasn't in danger. Not mentioning a city meant he had concerns about both Atlantis and Meropis. 

"To be expected," Jack said. "Got anything for me?"

Daniel focused on Meropis first. "Lots of interesting wall hangings, and they're recent, telling stories of the Pegasus galaxy. Lots of cultures working together on Meropis and you can see the influences blending together." What Jack called _archeology babble_ was a signal that Daniel had been allowed to explore the city. "But the cool thing you'll never guess," Daniel said, indicating something true was about to follow.

"Surprise me."

"They have hover cars."

"Well that would be handy," Jack said. "Hope they're willing to share. How's everybody on Atlantis?"

Daniel glanced around. Only Kusanagi seemed to be paying attention to the conversation. "Everything looks pretty mellow." The word meant that they were basically acting like pod people but no one seemed to be interested in converting him to whatever was going on here, and Jack would know as soon as he read the second button that it was a machine. If he'd said _calm_ it would have meant he was worried the Atlantis crew would try to make him like them. Daniel stopped himself from sighing in frustration. The whole spy language thing was really not his thing, even if he understood the need. "Dr. Kusanagi has taken up art in her spare time, sharing some culture with their allies here." Jackson really didn't know what this meant, but he felt that someone needed to know.

"Interesting," Jack said. "Think she'd be willing to share with us?"

Daniel glanced at Kusanagi. "I would be delighted, General." She almost purred, and it reminded Daniel more of Vala than a typical physicist. The meditor must be having a strange effect on her.

"Got something for you," Daniel said, stepping up to the liquid surface of the wormhole, putting his back to Kusanagi and the Atlantis personnel. He wrapped the button cameras in the paper. "Coming through." He tossed the package through, hoping it wouldn't slip through the grid of the gate ramp. 

"Great," Jack said. Daniel imagined him in his office in the Pentagon. "Talk to you tomorrow."

"About that," Daniel said. He forced himself not to glance over to the gate tech. "Apparently there's some kind of hitch and it's a two-gate process between here and there. 

"What's a little inconvenience to keep up with your friends?" Jack said.

"We were thinking weekly."

"Talk to you tomorrow, Danny."

Daniel swallowed, cursed himself for the tell, then relaxed thinking that the meditor-doped Atlantis personnel wouldn't have noticed. "Understood. Jackson out." He nodded to the gate tech, who reached over lazily to cut the connection.

"Shall we go see my sculptures?" Kusanagi said, a smile playing around her mouth. "You can pick one for the general."

"Could we swing by the labs on the way? I have something for Dr. Zelenka from Dr. McKay.”

“Oh,” Kusanagi said, holding out her hand. “Radek is on another planet right now. He’s delivering a sculpture!” she sounded delighted. “I can give it to him for you.”

Daniel looked at her open hand and swallowed. None of this seemed right. And when did Atlantis personnel, especially lab personnel, start going offworld to deliver gifts? “Uh, maybe,” he said. Then, to distract her, “Show me your art work?”


	12. Chapter 12

Rodney watched Jackson disappear through the ring. He had a bad feeling about this, and he hated having bad feelings. He couldn’t point to a logical reason why he should be worried, but he was. He waved to the Marines and walked back to the hover car, which would never stop being cool. It leaped forward at his touch like a horse ready to run. 

Rodney snorted at himself, snorted at the metaphor, and wondered if he’d ever really be the same again. All his self-tests were checking out for physics and math. So few people were at his level, at the level he had been, that he could lose some of his ability and still be the smartest man in the galaxy. Maybe not two galaxies, if he lost enough to be equal to Sam Carter. If he was no worse than that, he could live with it. Maybe. 

When the hover car cleared the trees, he paused. He remembered how much he'd loved the landscape when he’d first arrived in Meropis. Did he still appreciate it? He took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he scanned the open fields, the illusion of the mountain that hid Meropis, blending into scenery that was breathtakingly beautiful. He finally got the point of those California plein air paintings he’d been dragged to see by Carrie during that disastrous trip to Los Angeles. Carrie. He hadn’t thought about her in years, probably blocking out the memory of their breakup. She’d been one good thing about Area 51, and he really hadn’t appreciated her and her attempts to get him to see beyond physics. “Joke’s on me, Carrie,” Rodney murmured. He wasn’t sure he would give up what he was now, what he saw now, for his old single-minded focus. 

Rodney turned back to the controls after a moment, then sat up straight as a thought struck him. He slammed the accelerator so hard it almost snapped his head back. He had an idea, and he needed to talk to his holo-self. 

-0- 

Daniel liked the quarters Kusanagi had led him to. She’d given him one of her small statues and he set it on the desk as a marker for settling in. The three he'd seen had all been abstract, with an odd grace blending Japanese sensibilities with the Alteran esthetic, but with a gilt edging. It felt like a pastiche, but he was missing a few of the artistic references. He sat and ran his fingers over the swooping lines, trying to decide what it reminded him of. There was nothing like it on Meropis, so it wasn’t a Pegasus influence. He should probably be going back to Meropis, but there was much to do here and he hadn’t seen Radek yet to give him McKay’s flash drive. He needed to do that himself, not give it to someone else. It was important to keep your promises. 

He dropped his fingers from the sculpture and opened his field notebook, intending to add notes on the shifts in Atlantis culture from military to the arts. Before he started to write, he saw the jagged edge of the missing page, his notes sent on to Jack, but the drawing was still there. 

He looked at his sketch again, then glanced at Kusanagi’s abstract sculpture and back down. Something shifted in his focus and he saw it again, what he’d started to notice back at the Mu site. It was like one of those stupid drawings that could be a frog or a bunny. What he had thought was a vestibule could also be the bridge of a ship, the jagged design a stylized ZPM in an engine room. Meropis wasn’t just building hover cars. They were building ships. Huh. That was cool. He should probably try to remember to tell Jack tomorrow. 

-0- 

There was a knock at the council room door. Cam looked up as Ronon stepped away from the table to answer it, stretching. The interruption was welcome. They’d been briefing Teyla on Jackson’s presence and she’d been telling them about the strange behavior of the Genii. 

It was dusk outside Meropis’s windows. Cam rolled himself over and looked out over one of the fields, straight lines between the shape of the piers buried under the turf, an automated weeder working along a row. He could make out the lights, although the brightness inside the conference room high in the tower was starting to turn the glass into a black mirror. 

He could see the reflections of Teyla and John behind him. Teyla said, “You tell me there are no coincidences, John. These are likely related.” 

Her visit with the Genii faction had gone suspiciously well and she was back earlier than she'd said. Cam knew a smooth meeting with the Genii was probably almost as much of a problem as a meeting that went badly. You could figure you knew what a hostile group might do, but when they turned suspiciously cooperative, it was hard to know what to think. They said they’d had a visit from Atlantis, a scientific and artistic exchange that was changing their views about how to operate in the galaxy. They'd even waved away any concerns about the Wraith. 

Teyla wasn’t really sure what they’d wanted. They didn’t ask to come to Meropis, but they mentioned that they’d heard of the portable consoles, teaching tools Meropis shared with some worlds who were ready for the technology. The Genii trade minister still wore the usual uniform, but her hair was loose and curling on her shoulders, not scraped back in a tight bun as had previously been the case. She had also enthused to Teyla about the wildflowers from the fields on the surface of the neutral planet where they were meeting, but Teyla couldn't recall she'd ever commented on their surroundings before. 

One of the delegation had shown her new inventions that were not about war, focused on agriculture and geoengineering. The minister spoke of how they would now use their technology to better all of Pegasus, implying in part that Meropis should be doing more. They ignored Teyla’s concern that visible advancement would draw the Wraith—there was a reason Meropis kept its biggest agricultural fields under the cloak around the city. When Teyla had asked if they had heard of any cullings, they had dismissed the idea as not important. When did anyone in Pegasus, especially the Genii, think the Wraith were not important? And when Teyla mentioned that obvious technology might attract the Wraith, the minister had smiled at her softly and said, “We will be quiet.” 

Cam didn’t know what to think about it, but Teyla was right. There were no coincidences, and these Genii sounded a lot like the Atlanteans had been sounding these days. Ronon walking back from the door pulled Cam out of his musings. 

“That was a message from the gate,” Ronon said. “It’s been more than three hours.” Ronon’s voice was flat. 

Cam spun his wheels to turn back, facing the room with his heart sinking. Everyone looked grim

Teyla said, “Dr. Jackson has not returned, then?" She shook her head, answering her own question. "This is not good news.” 

John’s mouth twisted, his gaze on the table, so Cam spoke. "It shouldn't have hit Jackson that fast," Cam said. "Whoever's behind this must have found a way to turn it up."

"Indeed," Teyla said, "which is even worse news. Do you have a plan?"

“We were talking about this earlier,” Ronon said to Teyla. “The best thing is to send Machina.” 

“Machina doesn’t want to go.” John said, glancing toward the windows. 

“What if we paired him with McKay?” Ronon said. John looked over at Ronon, frowning, one eyebrow skeptically down. Ronon was as good at Sheppard-speak as Cam and Teyla. “It could work. It might give Machina a reason to go. Send him on an adventure with the great Dr. Rodney McKay.” 

Cam straightened up in his chair, a smile starting to lift his lips. “That might actually work.” 

“If McKay will go,” John said. “You heard him. He doesn’t want to risk losing his mind again.” 

“As would be reasonable,” Teyla said. “I do not want to risk him. He sounds much more like my old friend now than he did even a few days ago.” She smiled. ”I greeted him in the hallway after I arrived, and he waved me away and said, _working here_, so much like the Rodney McKay I remember.” 

“Yep, he’s back,” John said, a brief smirk on his face.

Cam thought for a minute. “What if he had a tin foil beanie?” Teyla and Ronon looked confused, not catching the Earth metaphor. Sheppard raised one eyebrow, so Cam said. “Block the signal.” Sheppard’s other eyebrow went up. “I know, I know, we don’t even know exactly what the signal is.” 

“But from what you tell me,” Teyla said, her head tilted, looking up at the corner, thinking, “Machina and the hologram have files on this device from Meropis’s systems. They could tell us.” 

“Oh,” said Cam. “Yeah, they could.” 

Ronon smirked. “There’s a reason you’re queen.” Cam snorted. This was a well-worn joke. 

“Do not call me that,” Teyla said, her usual, long-suffering answer. She settled her hands, clasped, on the table and managed to look put upon and amused at the same time. “I am merely a liaison.” 

“Merely, my ass,” Ronon muttered. 

“Should we call McKay and Machina up here?” Cam asked. 

There was another knock, then the sound of a scuffle, and McKay came bursting through the door. “I’ve got it!” His hair was standing on end and his eyes had the wild look Cam remembered from late nights in the lab. 

Machina followed, fond amusement on the holo-projection of its face. “We have news.”


	13. Chapter 13

Jack looked through the files from Danny’s button camera and a photo of the paper notes. Hover cars sounded cool and he wanted one. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted of everything else. It was very clear they’d made a mistake in not pursuing separate relations with Meropis when it split off, but the IOA and dismissed the city as dead and Sheppard as disgruntled. The military had been happy to accept his resignation in the face of the stupid accusation of _conduct unbecoming_. Jack had no desire to bust a good officer for kissing boys, especially if the boy in question was a civilian and a mission contributor. Work on the Ancient systems had slowed down considerably with Dr. Mitchell’s departure with Sheppard. 

Nope, all in all this was a missed opportunity. Only Xhu Bo, the Chinese representative, had paid much attention, and he had focused on the AI. They ignored that two key Pegasus native allies had left with Sheppard and Mitchell, and the implications of that defection had stood out to Jack as major red flags. He needed to fix this as soon as possible, but Danny’s notes hadn’t given him much to hang an approach on. Meropis didn’t need anything from Earth at all. 

Danny had a few flags in his notes. The Meropan city was thriving, had a military and a developing culture. Jack figured that if it weren’t for the Wraith, the Meropans could probably build an empire, but with Teyla Emmagen at the head, it would be built with soft power. With Sheppard in the mix, it would be backed with big sticks. Danny hadn’t been able to interview Emmagen, but he did have insights from his interviews with others. Jack smirked a bit at the page. The people in question probably had no idea they were being interviewed, just thought they were being pestered by an annoying archeologist. 

The note on the added paper didn't make sense. _WH 24: repeated stargate/gateship motif @ edges. Middle pic looks like temple floorplan. Inner temple has jagged design typ. Ancient tech. Central object of worship? Figures in vestibule and inner temple. Manaran record of ?_

He turned his attention to the other part of the report. Atlantis. The idea that Danny saw no attention and awareness, no wariness in the gate room made Jack’s hackles rise. The idea that a machine was responsible for the dumbing-down of Atlantis made his stomach churn. Damn the universe for always having a new twist. This _meditor_ device sounded terrifying in that pod people kind of way. Danny’s hastily added note was even weirder, that scientists were leading gate teams? To do what, trade art? 

_Shit_, Jack thought, leaning back in his chair, the pieces falling together. _What do you want to bet there’s a meditor hidden in the art?_ he thought. So was one of the scientists behind it? Or someone controlling a scientist? 

Whoever was behind the dumbing-down of Atlantis had designs on all of Pegasus. Reading between the lines of Danny’s descriptions of the Meropan culture, Jack could pretty much rule them out. They really were educators, first and foremost, using the promise of knowledge to create strong allies. “Liaison” Emmagen was working her way toward Empress, but softly, slowly, and Jack would bet that every negotiation she did resulted in a win-win. Loyalty through shared interests. Damn, she was good. 

He wondered if the Meropans would help him with Atlantis. He couldn’t risk sending through another person. He’d have to send a ship to Meropis with someone he trusted. There were damn few of those, but de-snaked Caldwell would probably come close. 

De-snaked. Snakes. Someone controlling a scientist. _Oh, shit._

-0- 

“How’s the simulation going, Miko?” Zelenka asked, placing his hands familiarly on the host’s shoulders. 

Valac kept still and did not shrug off the offensive familiarity because his host would not. He looked up and said in her voice, trying for his host’s rhythms, “Please, Dr. Zelenka, I would appreciate your comments.” He rolled the chair away from the monitor. 

Zelenka waved a hand. “I’m sure it’s fine. The day is particularly clear. Some of us are going to walk out to the south pier to enjoy the sunshine. Would you like to join us?” 

“Thank you, no,” Valac answered, looking around. “But I will take a break, too.” Most people were shutting down their stations, chatting with their neighbors. A few still looked absorbed in their work. They were like contented sheep, their supposed work merely grass they might nibble at in between staring at the sky. But it would keep them sharp enough for when Valac might need their skills. The machine, the meditor, worked better than he had hoped. But it had taken months of testing. “How was your trip off world?” 

“Ah,” Zelenka said, “I have never enjoyed away missions before, but this one proved most pleasant. Those remaining on Hoff appreciated the gift, though they were skeptical at first.” He shrugged, “It is good we are not so worried about the Wraith. Research for the sake of knowledge and not to avert certain death.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. 

Valac kept a straight face, as much as he wanted to smirk. Most worlds had been told the meditors were both art and pest repellants, a gift from Atlantis that was both useful and beautiful. And Valac had engineered high-frequency noise generators into them so they would repel most small mammals, the same method the Goa’uld used to keep their buildings and ships vermin-free on their slave worlds. Valac wished once again for Jaffa, for a prim’ta ready for a host. A scientist was a more useful host than a beautiful body, and when he could have both, as he did now, so much the better. Having one as smart as Zelenka as a vassal? His plan would move much faster. 

“Go.” Valac said to Zelenka, “Enjoy the day.” 

He turned right when Zelenka and his group turned left, and slipped into a transporter, setting the coordinates for one of the manufacturing facilities. The machines were quietly humming when he stepped out, a neat pile of meditors ready to be put into sculptures. He might not be able to subdue whole planets with the technology, but having their leaders calm and receptive to him would was easier than conquest and frightened populations. Just look at the Genii and their new inventions. They had meditors all over their underground city, now, ready for Valac to deploy them as his army. 

The Gate Builders were such fools to make such a tool then abandon it. Valac-in-Miko knew how to use such technology. He had wanted to send one to Meropis with McKay, but he was afraid of the active AI in the city. Perhaps it would recognize the signal, and he needed the resources of Meropis before he went after the Wraith. The only way to do that was to have enough worlds subdued to have overwhelming numbers when he moved to take the city.

This host was convenient, having the ATA gene and a scientist’s access to the laboratories and manufacturing areas. He relaxed his hold a bit to access more of the host’s memories. Her ideas had allowed him to change the meditors, to make their field stronger and wider. He loosened his control carefully. Usually he let nothing of Miko speak or even be aware when they were around others. After years of partnership, that level of control was tiring. He had tried before to engage her, but she had fought so hard. Time to try again. “We have a problem to solve,” he said aloud. 

_I will not help you!_

She was so fierce. The meditor didn’t affect her mind because of his presence. Her knowledge was his for the taking, but her creativity, the intuitive leaps he could see in her memory, had to be suppressed for him to do as he wished. “I wish we could have a partnership like true Tok’ra,” he murmured. 

He could feel her confusion. It was the first time he had said anything to her about what he really was. _How can you be Tok’ra?_ she thought, making the connection. _I thought they only took willing hosts._ Revulsion came with the thought, and Valac suppressed the nausea that came with it. 

“Not even to rule? For power?” he asked. He had rarely let her speak, even inside her own mind. As much as he knew her history and skills, he didn’t really know _her_. A pity, especially with the force of her answer, a _NO_ that came with memories and wishes, the joy of discovery, the love of her work, even here, so far away from her home planet, her people. Valac remembered having ideals once. 

His last host, the one where he had hidden from the Tau’ri and even hidden from the host itself, had liked to read. Valac could find no more apt summary than a quote from the Tau'ri writer Milton. “Better to reign in Hell,” he said aloud. “This universe has the Wraith, limited technology, primitive populations. I can build an empire without killing any of the population. With you, we can solve the problem of the Wraith. This is much more fun than playing ridiculous games with the Tau’ri and the idiot Trust.” 

He could feel his Miko take that information and put it together. _You were a Tok’ra spy. But you were working with the Goa’uld in Colonel Caldwell._

“Hmm,” he said, “In a way. I was Valac-in-Pirenn, and I infiltrated the Trust for the Tok'ra. The Trust thought I was Goa'uld and their plan was to send me as backup for the Goa’uld in Caldwell. I was to make sure the city blew up even if his plan to overload the ZPM failed, although why they believed a Goa'uld would ever self sacrifice, I don't know." He snorted and shook his head. "I had to kill my Pirenn to preserve our secret.” He let Miko feel his sadness, the resolve Pirenn had shown, knowing she had to die for the Tok'ra mission to succeed. He did not let Miko have his memory of Pirenn's fear as he left, her desire to stay alive, her regret, her love for him and the bitter despair in death, the last thing he tasted of her before she died. Valac still missed her, resented what he'd had to do. He did not let Miko see that he'd resolved never to truly partner with a host again. 

Valac-in-MacGregor, the engineer, had let events play out in Atlantis. The Trust, thinking him one of their operatives, had sent him to ensure the city exploded, sacrificing himself with it. The Tok'ra had sent him to infiltrate the city, to report back on everything the Tau'ri had kept hidden. That was why he'd been expected to kill Pirenn when he left her body. The Trust had always meant for them to die. The Tok’ra had expected him to sacrifice her for the cause. 

_You were in MacGregor,_ Miko realized. 

Valac did love Miko’s mind. She made connections before he had to say anything. He'd taken MacGregor, the engineer provided by the Trust, without consent, riding silently and letting him go about his business. “I was never truly Valac-in-MacGregor,” he said. But the experience of riding in MacGregor, and how much he hated being truly a spy after Pirenn and their partnership. Valac let Miko feel how he'd hated the weeks of silence, of passive observation, the control it took to remain hidden. He had seethed in his anger at losing his true partner, at the other Tok’ra who had expected him to discard her, at himself for believing the sacrifice was right, right up to the moment he had felt her fear and her life extinguish. He'd wanted to truly take MacGregor, but the Goa’uld in Caldwell would have killed him if he'd shown himself, so he'd hidden, even after Caldwell was exposed, let the Lanteans save the city on their own. He'd waited, until he could move into an even better host.

_So _you _were in MacGregor when he attacked me. He wasn't drunk, was he?_

He hadn't let her remember how he came into her, the last remnants of guilt for taking a host unwilling. The time spent silent and hiding in MacGregor had made him nearly mad, so he had let himself take all of her, silence her, own her. He snickered. “Oh, he had enough alcohol in him to kill him. I let the body feel it. He had already vomited a great deal and then I made him drink more. He was vomiting blood before I took you. It disguised the wound of my leaving.” 

_You made him drink himself to death,_ Miko said, sadness washing through her as he let her remember her fear during the attack. She knew now that MacGregor had not been in control of it at all. 

“Nor was he making a clumsy attempt at rape,” Valac said, remembering the kiss he had forced on Miko in an empty hallway, letting her remember with him. She was much smaller than MacGregor so it had been easy to hold her still until her struggles subsided. Valac relived burrowing into Miko with delight, taking control, owning the body and playing the sobbing victim for the security personnel when she reported MacGregor's death. Valac smiled with Miko’s mouth, and made Miko’s revulsion and hatred vanish with a mental snap. Since the others had made him kill Pirenn and taste her love and despair he wanted nothing to do with host emotions, or Tok'ra plans. He had his own plans now.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, so many thanks to mific for her reading and cheerleading and finding of typos and grammatical errors.

Jack spun to grab the phone when it rang, putting the plastic handle of the hard line to the mountain up to his ear, saying his name before the mouthpiece was even in place. “O’Neill.”

“We have Dr. Jackson for you, sir.”

Jack moved the mouthpiece away so the technician wouldn’t hear a general sigh with relief. “Put him on.”

“Hi, Jack.”

Danny sounded calm, and it was hard to tell anything from just two words, so Jack asked the code phrase. “You’re a little late. How’s it going? They treating you all right?”

“It’s good, Jack. I like it here. Atlantis is lovely.”

Jack felt the blood drain from his face. None of those were code phrases. He tried again, “How’s everybody on Atlantis?”

“Really good,” Danny said. “It’s like an island vacation, but with databases and good research to do. Everybody has the coolest projects.”

Jack had never heard Danny that laid back even after three beers. Maybe after that drug on that one planet. The man didn’t do _relaxed_, it just wasn’t in his nature. All he managed to say was, “Yeah?”

“And Miko is making art, sharing it with lots of planets. It’s really nice to be exporting something better than bullets,” Danny said. And the Danny who had left Earth would have had some edge of long-held accusation in that last, but it sounded… Jack didn’t know what it sounded like. Like Danny was stoned? He dropped his head into his free hand. Whatever the Meropans had thought about the need for long-term exposure to a meditor? They were clearly wrong. He almost missed what Danny said next. “We’re sending one through. Coming now.”

Jack had a bad feeling about this, and he swallowed down his first response. “Thanks for sharing,” he said, and normal Danny would have heard the sarcasm and danger. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

The technician’s voice broke through. “Package received.”

Jack said, “Great!” the brightness of his tone false and tinny in his own ears. “Talk to you tomorrow, Dr. Jackson.” Using the title meant that Jack understood that he was compromised.

“Sure thing,” Danny said, again not responding with code phrase. He could have questioned Jack on the formality, which would have meant things were better than Jack thought. He could have called him General O’Neill, which would mean things were bad. Instead he sounded like the hippie Jack had mistaken him for, so long ago on Abydos.

“Atlantis is out, wormhole closed, sir,” said the technician. “What should we do with the package from Atlantis?”

Jack wanted to zat it three times, but they should probably try to study it. He said. “Get it away from the gate, but keep it in the gate room. Get a staff weapon and hit it. Sift through the pieces. Anything that looks like a device, start taking it apart.” But then he wondered if it might be booby trapped to explode. That’s what he would do if he were sending devices to control people’s minds. “Belay that order. Zat it the hell gone.”

-0-

“Machina,” Cam said, “what if it doesn’t work? McKay will be sucked back in.” Cam leaned on his crutches, peering over the workbench. McKay had stepped out to pee saying he needed to process all that stout tea. Machina was placing some wiring using the new hands it had built for itself with McKay’s help. They were a little weird, each finger in a slightly different shape, like mobile multitools. 

Machina said nothing for a moment, and Cam wasn’t sure if that meant the AI was processing something complex or just delaying its response to mimic human emotions. In a voice so soft as to barely be audible, it said, “If McKay does not know I am there, he cannot tell them.” 

Cam heard McKay’s voice from the hall, so he didn’t answer, just looked at Machina. The hologram of its face looked so solid, almost continuous with the shell of the robot’s head. It normally wore a serene expression that Cam figured was copied from pre-Ascension Alterans, but it could do human facial expressions when it wanted to. Machina looked at Cam with an almost perfect version of the John Sheppard eyebrow and smirk of _see, I told you I had a plan_. "I cannot, through inaction, allow humans to come to harm."

McKay bustled in before Cam could quite process that. It didn’t look like McKay had slept since he burst into the conference room with exactly the same idea Cam had come up with. McKay had spent hours with the hologram and Machina, working out the math and the design. 

“Seems a little overboard for a tin foil beanie,” Cam said to McKay, poking a finger at the helmet taking shape on the lab bench. 

“I told you, it isn’t as simple as a tin foil beanie,” McKay snapped, “or the meditors wouldn’t work between the floors of Atlantis. And we think they do.” 

“Sounds possible,” Cam said. He’d come down to get more details out of McKay. All he’d done in the conference room was to say that he’d figured out a shielding technology, spouted a lot of babble about frequencies, and then stared at John, like he was waiting for something. All John had said was, _Okay, go build it,_ and McKay had grabbed Machina by the wrist and run back out the door. It was pretty safe to say that McKay was fully back to factory standard. 

“We have a hypothesis,” Machina said. “With the loss of Dr. Jackson—“ 

“Don’t call it loss,” McKay interrupted. “We’ll get him back.” 

“We do not think he was detained or killed,” Machina said. “Our hypothesis is that whoever is using the meditors has made them more powerful. Normally they would have little effect on adult minds so quickly.” 

Cam nodded. They’d been through this. “So, we need shielding that actively counters the mind control."

“And thus the helmet!” McKay gestured. 

“Tin foil beanie,” Cam sang. 

“No," McKay said, narrowing his eyes. "More like Cerebro."

“More like Magneto’s helmet that blocked Cerebro,” Cam countered. 

McKay blinked at him for a moment. “Sometimes I forget what a nerd you are.” 

Machina looked at them both, head tilted in a human gesture, and then straightened up as he found the reference in the data banks. “On Dr. Mitchell’s geek server of doom: The X-Men. Terran comics and movies.”

McKay snorted and shook his head. "You’ve corrupted Sheppard and now the AIs. Nice." He smirked and said, “And if we’re done with the analogies, don’t you have software to build?” McKay asked Cam. 

Cam let himself sound sarcastic. “One embedded system for signal processing to run on custom hardware, coming right up.” McKay frowned, and Cam could see the drawn skin of too little sleep and too much stout tea. Cam said, “We’ll get it done, Rodney. Nothing’s on fire yet, and you need to get some sleep. Machina and I will keep this going.” 

McKay made a dismissive noise. 

“You do need to recharge,” Machina said, placing a hand gently on McKay’s arm. 

Cam was surprised when McKay sighed and nodded. “You’re right, and it’s not like Atlantis is going anywhere.” He turned toward the door. “Call me if you hit any snags.” 

-0- 

Cam heard his radio squawk from a few feet away. He’d set it aside, deep into the code he was writing for McKay’s helmet. It needed to be adaptive, tunable, and to run on the hybrid Alteran-Tau’ri design, and he'd been at it for three days. He’d taken off his headset to focus without any Meropan backchatter. The squawk came over his private frequency with John, the pattern of _Shave and a Haircut_. John knew how he worked, and he wouldn't have invoked the _pay attention now_ code unless it was important. 

Cam felt a thought leading to a coding solution fly out of his mind as he reached for the headset. If it was the right fix, it would come back. “Hey. What’s up?” 

“There's news,” John said. “A culling on Cananth. Bad one.” 

Cam felt the blood drain from his face. The Cananth usually hid from the Wraith, an Alteran facility in a mountainside serving as a haven. They were secretive about it, but they had shown John when they realized he had the ATA gene, which the whole population possessed. A few were in Meropis as students and teachers. The Cananth were master herders, their techniques developed to hide their skills from the Wraith. Rhunok was also very tasty. But if the Cananth had been culled, something was very wrong. “How did you find out?” Cam asked. 

“Kanor,” John said. Cam remembered him. He'd come to train with the Meropis military, improving his combat and leadership skills. “He went home to visit. There were only a few from his group alive.” 

Cam swallowed. Kanor's people were the ones closest to the stargate on their planet. “What happened?” 

John’s voice sounded bleak. “They didn’t run.” 

“What?” Cam slumped back in his chair. This didn’t make any sense. Their Ancient Haven and Help was big enough to hide the entire population. There were transporters near all the populated areas that could move people there in large groups. John had described how fast they could scatter their settlements and herds and move to safety, always including breeding pairs of the rhunocks. “Was anyone left?” 

“Kanor’s people? Maybe half a dozen,” John said. “The ones from other places made it. _They_ ran.”

“Did they say what happened?” 

“Just… just come up here. Please.” 

Cam rolled as fast as he could to the transporter and then to John’s office. Teyla was already there, standing and staring out across the same fields Cam had been looking at a few days ago. Kanor sat in a chair, his usual sleek curls barely contained in a messy pony tail, strands falling around to cover his face. He was bent far over, forearms on his knees, and hands clenched to white knuckles. Cam didn’t know him well, but the tight lines of his body were a contrast to his usual loose grace. 

John was in his uniform pants and white shirt, leaning against the desk, his face like a statue’s, not a twitch to communicate the gravity of the situation. Cullings always made him sad and angry, but whatever John was feeling now went far deeper than that, if he'd had to lock it down with such iron control. “We have a problem,” John said. 

Cam glanced at Teyla, who had turned around. He had seen Teyla in many moods, but the look on her face frightened him. He looked back at John, not knowing what to say, and then over to the hunched form on the chair. He offered what he could, knowing words weren’t enough. “I am so sorry, Kanor.” 

Kanor looked up, tears on his face. “They did not run. They did not go to the Haven and Help. They let the Wraith take them.” His voice broke on the last, and he hung his head again, hands covering his face. His sleeves fell back to expose the intricate bar tattoos on one forearm, markings that many Cananth wore. 

Cam knew he was looking at the tattoos to distract himself. His throat tightened as he glanced up at John, whose lips had tightened, a tell seeping through. There were so many potential implications for the security of Meropis, but there was only one question that mattered right now. “Does anyone know why?” 

Kanor shook his head, but John said, “Kanor said, they’d had a visitor from Atlantis. A small woman with some Marines. She brought a gift.” 

Teyla bowed her head at the words, but John’s face didn’t change. It only took Cam a moment to make the connection. “A meditor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rhunoks and the Cananth are from one of my older RBB stories, written to be canon compliant [Warrior](https://archiveofourown.org/works/629772). It's McKay/Sheppard, and fitting into canon, would be AU to this story. Whenever I reference rhuoks as tasty mini-bison-like herd animals, they came from Warrior.


	15. Chapter 15

“Your attention please.” Teyla’s voice came over the Meropis speakers. Rodney looked up toward the sound. Meropis had few announcements, and he’d never heard one given directly by Teyla. “All off world travel is suspended. We are aware of the inconvenience and we are sorry. There is, however, a grave risk. Please see the written explanation on the computer network. Please meet in the great hall this evening so that we may answer any of your questions.”

That didn’t sound good. Rodney muttered “Anyone planning to clue me in? Or do I get to find out with the rest of the great unwashed?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Mitchell’s voice answered, as he rolled into the lab. “How’s the helmet?”

“Won’t know if it’s adaptable without your code, but according to the specs from Machina, it should work. Is the code ready yet or should I do it myself?” Rodney let irritation cover his worry.

“Keep your shirt on,” Mitchell said, one of his corny expressions, but Rodney heard an edge to his voice.

“So, why no off world travel?”

Mitchell’s mouth pulled down, an angry frown at odds with the sadness in his eyes. “Culling on Cananth.”

“But…” Rodney was confused. The Cananth were masters at hiding from the Wraith.

“Kanor says they didn’t run. I mean, most of them did, but the ones from his group who mostly guard the gate? They didn’t run.”

“They didn’t run,” Rodney repeated, sounding stupid to his own ears, but he couldn't imagine why anyone from Pegasus would risk standing against the Wraith.

“Yeah,” Mitchell sighed. “There's a strong hint Atlantis sent them a meditor. Ronon wants to take a team through to see if they can find it. But Jackson was hooked in three hours, so...” He trailed off

Rodney felt that thought sink through him like cold water. The Cananth didn’t try to stand against the Wraith, they just stood there to be culled. “They probably just stood there, admiring the pretty lights of the culling beams," he said. Then he looked at Mitchell, bitterness replaced by fear. "But that means, any world we go to, we could get caught up in it too, if we stay too long.”

Cam flicked his eyebrows up, and the angry frown came back. “Potentially. That's why Teyla's banned travel.”

Rodney’s stomach roiled at the thought of not running from the Wraith. He thought back to how he had been when he first came to Meropis, and back then he probably would have simply thought the culling beams were quite interesting, pretty even. He tamped down his nausea. “We need to warn people.”

“Yep,” Cam said. “Jinto and Ronon are planning out a schedule. They’ll go through the gate, ask the people if Atlantis has given them anything, and if the answer is yes, leave. If no, make sure they know to destroy anything from Atlantis as soon as the Atlantis folks leave, and to get them to leave as soon as possible.”

“But what about the worlds that already have one?”

“S’why I’m here.” Cam said. “We don't really want to risk our people, so Ronon's planning strike teams in cloaked jumpers. If they can pinpoint the meditors and destroy them pronto, they can get out before they're affected. So we were wondering if you could adapt your shielding approach to just detect the signal." Cam looked at Rodney with raised eyebrows.

“Of course I can,” he snapped, but the snap really wasn’t because Cam questioned his abilities. The idea of standing in a doped-up daze waiting for the Wraith utterly unnerved him. The meditors were evil. He reached for the helmet and thrust it toward Mitchell. “Take this and get that software sorted." He turned back to his workbench, feeling all the urgency of a Wraith attack. "You'll get a detector that can work with a puddle jumper. They'll need hand-helds, too.”

-0-

Jack hadn’t been able to stay in Washington. He knew it didn’t make sense to come to the mountain, but it felt closer to Danny. Landry had ceded his office and set himself up somewhere else. Jack appreciated the nice chair, but it came with people coming up to see Landry and having to be redirected by Dominguez. He wished he’d been able to bring his assistant Sergeant Cho with him, but she would be much more effective covering his absence from those that didn’t need to know.

The chair was nice, but Jack couldn’t stay in it for long, couldn’t focus on the reports Cho had insisted he bring. There was only one report he cared about, so he decided he didn’t mind making a pest of himself and closed the folder, tucking it back into his locked briefcase and taking a last sweep before leaving the room. Passing Dominguez he said, “I’ll be in operations.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell General Landry he can have his chair back.”

“Where should I set up space for you, sir?”

“I’ll take Danny’s office,” Jack said, without thinking.

He didn’t last long in operations. Walter Harriman gently eased him out of everyone’s hair by assuring Jack they’d call. There was nowhere to go but Danny’s office, and Jack looked around the room, hating the emptiness. He couldn’t take the desk chair, so he took the one opposite, where he’d sat in so many times before. He flipped open his briefcase, and instead of the reports Cho wanted him to read—needed him to read, Jack admitted to himself—he pulled out Danny’s notes. He wasn’t really reading, but a drawing caught his eye. He read the notes on it.

_WH 24: repeated stargate/gateship motif @ edges. Middle pic looks like temple floorplan. Inner temple has jagged design typ. Ancient tech. Central object of worship? Figures in vestibule and inner temple. Manaran record of ?_

Jack had seen enough of Danny’s notes to know that WH was wall hanging, and Danny had sketched the whole thing, giving the relative proportions. The stylized gateships were drawn in more detail, then the central temple thing. Jack tilted his head. Something was tugging at him. Why put star gates and gateships around a temple? He looked at the size ratio of the motifs at the edges to the central area, the temple, which was huge by comparison. It wasn’t a temple. It couldn’t be a temple. He stared at it moment longer, then it snapped into focus in a new way and he took a deep breath.

Jack set the notes on Danny’s desk and bolted out of the room to operations.

“Sir?” Harriman said, dragging the word out half a second longer than necessary.

Jack ignored the careful non-edge of annoyance in Harriman’s tone. “Is the Daedelus still in communication range?”

Harriman’s tone changed to brisk efficiency. “They should still be in system, sir. They’re scheduled to clear Pluto’s orbit and open a hyperspace window in approximately an hour. There will be a transmission delay.”

“Will they get the message?”

“Yes sir. What message should we send?”

Jack glanced around. Everyone in operations was focused on their work, but if they’d been dogs, all ears would have been up and pointed his way. They had the clearance, and he didn’t have time to try to do something clever. “Let me send it,” he said.

Harriman nodded, hands moving on his keyboard. “Channel open, sir.”

“Daedalus, this is O’Neill. Repeat, this is O’Neill. Use extreme caution in approaching Meropis. Expect cloaked ships. Repeat, expect cloaked ships on your approach to Meropis. Treat as potential allies. Do not provoke if possible. Repeat, do not provoke.” He nodded to Harriman. “Let me know if they answer.” He felt adrenaline wash out, realizing he’d been unaware of it until it left a cold wake behind. This situation, Meropis having ships, could go FUBAR in so many ways, and he hated being stuck on Earth. Dialing into Atlantis clearly wasn't an option. He’d have to trust Caldwell’s discretion.

"They're answering, sir."

Jack turned back. "Go ahead."

Jack didn't recognize the voice that said, "Understood. Colonel Caldwell wants to know if you have any additional orders."

"Stand by," Jack said, mind whirling. What could he do to make the Meropans like them more? What could he offer? "I have an idea."

The discussion was awkward with the delay, but they hashed out a plan for an offer they could make to enhance their ships, if they needed it, but would also give them a bit of a back door into at least one of Meropis's ships, assuming they had more than one. When he was satisfied with the plan, he sat back in a chair he didn't remember sitting in, hoping they'd made the right decision.

-0-

“Rodney, you don’t have to do this.” John said. “We can send someone else.”

McKay shook his head. He had the helmet under his arm and he stuck his chin up. “I’m the best person to find the things and turn them off. I know the city better than anyone.” He patted a pocket on his tac vest. "Plus, prototype detector."

Cam thought McKay looked as much scared as resolved, so he grinned at McKay, provoking him deliberately as a distraction. “Don’t take off that tin foil beanie.”

That made McKay glare at him, snort, and turn around. Teyla walked up to him and placed her hands on McKay’s forearms. They bent to touch heads, and McKay visibly calmed as he stayed for a moment, listening to something Teyla whispered between them. He stood up and nodded toward Sheppard, then walked up the back ramp of the puddle jumper that would take him to the Charin, their first-built ship. Cam wished they had transport beams like the Asgard, and maybe if this all went well they could get McKay to install some for them. In the meantime, the little ships served as shuttles, and the Charin could make the hyperspace jump to Atlantis. Her cloak would keep Atlantis from knowing she was there.

As soon as the ship took off, flying out of the city toward where the Charin waited in orbit, Machina stepped out of the corridor. Cam rolled toward it. “You ready, too?”

“I have never left my planet's orbit,” Machina said. “I will be separated from Meropis.” Its holographic face was expressionless. “I do not know if I can function without Meropis.”

John walked over, not having heard the exchange. “You ready?”

“No,” Machina said, “but I do not know what _ready_ would be like.”

Cam held up a crystal. “This is your interface with Atlantis. It’s based on what I remember from before we came here. The file system over there has a lot of damage. I never figured out exactly what the Alterans did, but it could have been some kind of virus. This has middleware on it to protect you.” He handed it to Machina, who put its hand under Cam’s rather than take the crystal in its fingers. Cam placed it in Machina’s palm, and folded its fingers around, covering them with his own. If Machina were human, he’d be trying to reassure it.

Machina looked down at their hands. “You forget,” it said in its soft voice, “when I was merely the hologram of the great Dr. Rodney McKay, I interfaced with Atlantis’s systems.”

Cam pulled his hand back. He had forgotten that. He still tended to think of Machina and the hologram as separate things. “Maybe you won’t need it,” he said, “but you’ve come a long way from a baby AI in a MALP.”

Machina gave Cam a smile. “I am now a young AI in a robot body. But much of what you would call my brain is Meropis herself. We are always connected.”

John spoke, startling Cam a bit. “I get why you’re scared.” He ran his hand down his face, smoothing his beard. “Just your senses in that one body, cut off.”

Machina looked slightly surprised. “Yes, Commander. I am afraid of the limitations and my ability to function. But I must go.” It looked at Cam, raising the hand that held the crystal. “Thank you for this. I will use it.”

“And if McKay gets turned back into a pod person,” Cam started.

“I will try to remove him from Atlantis.” Machina walked toward the second puddle jumper, which would remain cloaked in the Charin’s ship bay. Machina could pilot the ship alone through an electronic interface. This way McKay wouldn't know it was there.

Teyla walked over and put a hand on Machina’s exposed shoulder. Machina halted, but did not turn. She said, “When you learned to pilot, you went into orbit."

"And I was cut off from Meropis, yes," Machina said. "But it did not last long."

"So this will not be completely new for you," Teyla said. She put her other hand on Machina, and the robot bent down. Cam could see Teyla's forehead move into the hologram of Machina's face, just a centimeter or so of overlap. "We are grateful you are willing to go," she said, stepping back.

John moved up and put a hand on Machina's shoulder. "If being on the Charin is too much, you know, if the separation from the city is too much…” John dropped his hand and continued, “Launch the puddle jumper and come home.” It was a long speech for John, and it told Cam just how worried he was about McKay and Machina.

“Thank you, Commander Sheppard,” Machina said, finally turning to face John. “But I cannot, through inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.”

“Thank you,” Teyla said.

“And if I find out who has launched this evil plan,” Machina said, its voice hardening in a way Cam had never heard before, “I will find a way to stop them.” Machina turned and walked up the ramp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sgt. Cho was stolen without attribution from [auburn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auburn/pseuds/auburn)'s series [Lawyers, Guns, and Money](https://archiveofourown.org/series/94342). That series is amazing, and you should read it.


	16. Chapter 16

Valac was met at the Chappa’ai on M3N-985 by primitive weapons pointed his way. The dozen or more people arrayed in a half circle all wore face masks made of cloth. The ones in front kneeled, aiming crossbows, those behind had spears poised and ready to fly.

“We are under quarantine,” A voice shouted. He could not tell which one spoke, their faces hidden under the masks. “Leave now!”

Valac controlled his rush of anger. How dare they defy him! He tried to mimic his host. “We have only come with a gift.” He held up the sculpture with the meditor in it. He could see some of the eyes above the masks blink as the effects began to take hold. His moment of satisfaction was shredded by pain and by the screams of the Marines he had brought with him. He fell, a spear piercing the host’s midsection and Valac shut down the perception of pain.

There was movement all around him as he tried to rise, but he couldn’t get Kusanagi’s body to work while a spear was stuck through it. He couldn’t risk pulling it out forward if the head was barbed, so he let go of the meditor and rolled on his side. He began to push it through the host's back, healing the lung enough to keep the body alive until he could repair the viscera underneath, breathing with the ribs until he could fix the torn diaphragm. He saw hands grab the meditor from where it had fallen next to him, and he realized other hands were pulling him away from the Chappa’ai. He tried to get to his feet after they dropped him, balance off due to the large piece of wood stuck through the host, and managed to make it only to the host's knees, but it gave him leverage to start pushing on the spear again. He heard the gate dial and glanced up to see the meditor destroyed in the splash from the wormhole.

“No!!” he tried to scream, but his words were a bubbling hiss. He reached behind to yank the spear the rest of the way out, tugging and inarticulately moaning, staggering to his feet, pushing the host body as hard as he could. His attackers grabbed him by the arms as soon as the spear was out and dragged him, pulling him off his feet, his nose only inches from the ground.

The pressure and the angle of his arms over his head, gripped tightly by these people, made it difficult to breathe, and the host was losing blood. He didn’t want to lose Kusanagi, but the damage was more than he could outright heal. Face down, he couldn’t see but could hear.

"You need the code," said a voice. "That's what Jinto told us. Make one of them speak it."

"You!" said another voice, followed by a grunt of pain. "Tell them what they must hear so we can send you back."

Valac heard one of the Marines giving an IDC, and the sound of something going through the Chappa’ai. He wanted to yell in frustration, but the body simply wouldn’t cooperate. Valac had already cut himself off from the host’s pain so he searched internally, trying to close arteries by sheer force of will, at least slowing the bleeding.

And then he was thrown into the cold of travel between planets. He rolled through at the end onto a hard floor, and the pulse of Atlantis as only a gene carrier could feel it. He came to rest against something solid, another body, the sounds around him of mild alarm but without urgency. He wanted to yell and curse them all, but could still barely keep breath in the body. It needed more healing than he could give if it were to survive. He wanted to yell, _Where are your doctors?_ but he could not draw breath. The body failed and took him with it.

-0-

Rodney had made himself a lair in an abandoned lab. Well, maybe lair was too strong a word for a place he’d slept in once, but he liked the image of hiding secretly, like the Phantom of the Opera. His ship was cloaked at the end of a pier that was rarely used. Sneaking into the city had been easy, too easy, and he'd felt both anger at the lax security and relief that he would be able to do his job.

He’d already located most of the meditors using his modified scanning approach with the city's sensors. He wanted to turn them off, but the plan was to find who was responsible first because just turning them off would tip their hand. Machina was back on Meropis, helping to build the mobile versions of the detectors for the gateships and to modify the hand-held life signs detectors for teams on the ground and between the two devices, teams should be able to get in and out, destroying the devices before they succumbed. Rodney was very glad he had protection. He rapped his knuckles on the helmet for good luck.

He’d located the meditors, but his next tasks were to find where they were coming from and who was behind it. There were blanks in the city’s security feeds, and Rodney wasn’t sure if they’d always been there. One blank covered a manufacturing facility, and he thought he should sneak down there later tonight. He twirled in his chair, listening to the Atlantis com system. They were usually quiet. Rodney had heard very little more than people arranging excursions to watch the sunset, or announcements for dance meetings. He’d seen two of those in the day and a half he’d been on Altantis. The security cameras had shown him a gym full of marines, scientists, every type of person on Atlantis, dancing together and laughing. The people from Earth had taught the Macarena to the Athosians, which Rodney now thought was an abomination of cultural infection, even as he remembered laughing and dancing with them. The Athosians led their traditional dances, too. He tried to imagine being one of the people in the gym, now, and he could recall smiling and sweating and trying to get the steps right, laughing at his own terrible hip swivel.

He swallowed down the memory. He didn’t want to be like that any more, hated the loss of his edge and his intellect. He was glad he had the helmet, but it itched, and sleeping in it hadn’t worked very well. Wouldn’t it be funny if he showed up at a dance session in his helmet?

No, he had work to do, it just had to wait for nightfall. When he knew who was behind it, he could go back to the Charin and report back to Meropis.

Rodney sat up when he heard the call for medical to the gate room, but no one sounded particularly bothered. He checked the security feed. Kusanagi was bleeding out from a gut wound, surrounded by four Marines, three clutching at their legs and one with a nasty-looking arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Someone hadn’t been happy to see them, and why was Kusanagi on a gate team? She’d rarely left the lab before. Before the meditors, Rodney realized. Who knew what she did now?

Carson and his team ambled up, stretchers in tow. Rodney switched on the audio. “Well this is a bit of a mess,” Carson said, without any of the urgency Rodney expected. One of the marines was muttering, “They shot at us. Whey would they shoot at us?” in a sad voice utterly at odds with his size. This was what the meditor’s effects looked like from the outside, and Rodney felt sad for them.

Part of him knew he should feel more than sad as he watched the medical team's lack of urgency. But he was all right. He had his helmet. Rodney knocked on his head again, a reassuring rap on his protection against becoming like them.

He followed the medical team using the internal sensors, watching the dots move through the city, the jump of the transporter, listening where he could. “You’ll soon be right as rain,” Carson said to Kusanagi’s inert body. “Just keep pressure on that wound, lad.” Carson was whistling as they entered the infirmary. “Spot of excitement, all. Can ye’ prep the OR for trauma, please?”

Rodney watched as the staff moved, bustling, but not urgent.

-0-

Valac came to his senses again with the one called Beckett leaning over him. “Oh, that’s quite the hole in you, lass,” Beckett said. “Let’s see if we can stitch that up, shall we?”

Valac shot out a hand to grab the human by the neck, failing to conceal the eye flash of anger, the resonance of his voice. “You will repair this body!” He cursed the injury. He was too weak to simply force Beckett’s head down so he could take him as a host.

Beckett grabbed Valac’s hand and pried it off. “Ah, so that’s how you’re still alive. You’ve got a wee passenger there.” He didn’t seem concerned, just saying, “Well, we'll see if anesthesia works on you and I’ll stitch up your insides. Let’s get some blood in you, too.” Beckett looked around, a stupid sheep smile on his face that made Valac want to strangle him again. “Looks like we’ve got a spot of work here, team.”

“What about the others?” someone said.

“Well, lass, would you like to try practicing your suture skills to patch up those arrow holes? Get Dr. Biro to help you with the really nasty ones.” Beckett clapped his hands, but there was no urgency in his voice when he said, “Let’s all get to it.”

-0-

Rodney took a breath. _A wee passenger._ Did that mean Kusanagi was pregnant? He doubted it. One thing that had finally come back after being under the meditor was his sex drive, not that he had anyone to share it with on Meropis. And carrying a baby wouldn’t have helped her survive what looked like a nasty gut wound. But how had she made her eyes do that?

He felt slow. Something about this should make sense to him. Oh. A Goa’uld. That was the only thing it could be. He should go back to his jumper right now and let the Charin crew know. But the Charin was crewed by Pegasus natives—they wouldn’t know how important this was. He should Daniel and let him know.

Rodney took a breath and sat back from the console. He knew he should be feeling something more than he was. He was concerned about a Goa’uld, and he realized it might be behind the meditors. But he had enough of a sense of himself to know that the news should be upsetting, and he felt fine. He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand, thinking.

Oh. His eyes were connected to his brain. His nose was connected to his brain. If Rodney drew a straight line up under his chin it would reach his brain. Well, damn. They’d never thought that the meditor effect could get in through the helmet's facial opening, but the vectors for wave entry from his chin were obvious when he thought about it. Might as well take off the itchy thing, then.


	17. Chapter 17

“Sir, there’s a ship,” came a voice over the radio.

Cam looked up at John over the breakfast table.

John keyed his radio. “Traveler?”

“No, sir. From your description it looks Tau’ri.”

John’s eyebrows went up and he looked back at Cam. Cam said, “Were we expecting company?”

John shook his head. Into his radio he said, “What are they doing? Any hail?”

“No hail yet, sir. They are in-system and approaching fairly quickly. Sensors do not detect any charged energy weapons. Guns do not seem hot.”

Cam felt tension dissolve in his legs. He hadn’t even recognized he’d been pushing against Beulah’s footrests until he let go. “The Elizabeth Weir is in orbit,” Cam said. “We could ask them to decloak behind the planet from the ship and come out and say hello. They won’t know we have cloaks that way.”

John shook his head. “I don’t want them to even know we have ships.”

Cam closed his eyes and sighed a bit at his own stupidity. They’d been hiding that from Jackson, so why show their hand now? “Sorry,” he said.

“I’ll take a puddle jumper up to say hi.” John said. He glanced at Cam again and smirked. “Tell the kitchens to bake a cake.”

Cam smirked back. Once he’d taught the kitchen crew how to make Earth-style cakes, they made one for every visitor. Whether the cake actually _was_ served to a visitor was another story. It had gotten around Pegasus that if the Liaison offered you cake, things were going well. Cam was kind of waiting for O’Neill to come back because he'd complained about the lack of cake on his one visit to Meropis. But come to think of it, there was no guarantee O’Neill would get any. Depended on how he behaved. And that brought Cam back to the ship coming in. “Wonder who they sent. We’ve been gone long enough it could be somebody new.”

“My money says Caldwell.” John smoothed his beard, thinking. Cam kept his peace for a minute, finishing his breakfast. Eventually John said, “We tell them everything we know.”

“Everything?”

“About the meditors and Atlantis.”

“I’m gonna bet O’Neill sent the ship when Daniel didn’t report in.”

John nodded. “Timing’s right.” He rose from the table and picked up his breakfast dishes, not looking at Cam as he said, “Heard from the Charin that McKay went dark and Machina’s going in.”

Cam hadn’t heard that. His stomach dropped. “When was that?”

“Last night. You were already asleep.” John got up and dropped a kiss on Cam’s head on his way to leave the dishes in the sink. “Detectors done yet?” He seemed awfully calm at the idea of McKay falling back under the meditor. Cam wondered what had gone wrong with the helmet.

He answered John’s question. “Installed the first detector yesterday. Ronon’s got a list of planets to get started on.” He grimaced. “But if the helmet didn’t work for McKay, we need to figure out how long a team has before they’re affected.”

“I’ll have Jinto warn the strike teams.” John looked grim, but he walked over and put his hand on Cam’s shoulder. “We may not be able to use stealth.”

Cam twisted his neck to look up at John. “You don’t like doing this to our allies.” John shook his head and grimaced, so Cam pushed himself out of his chair and balanced with his hands on John’s shoulders. He looked into John’s eyes. “You know our people. They’ll be careful.”

John’s lips tightened as he swallowed. “I don’t want them to see us as a threat. Once we go in…” John let the thought trail off.

Cam didn’t need the answer supplied. “Like we talked about. Not guns blazing. Pretend trade missions.”

“But if that takes too long?”

“They might be affected.” Cam felt a weight of defeat and he closed his eyes. So much for the subtle approach. “Then what?”

“Cover. Black ops,” John said, barely getting the words out.

Cam didn’t know much about John’s military past, but he’d seen John do things no straight-up pilot was trained to do. When Cam opened his eyes, John was looking sideways, not at Cam, so he put his hand on John’s face. “Look at me. No one’s going to get killed.”

John groaned and let his head fall back, looking at the ceiling. Then he closed his eyes and brought his forehead down to Cam's. “Now you’ve done it.”

Cam snorted and squeezed John's shoulders briefly. “Don’t be superstitious.”

“If we had transporters…” John said, bringing his head back up, but looking sideways, not at Cam. Cam knew what he meant. With transporters and the new detectors they could find the meditors and beam them out without sending in people. McKay going dark meant the helmets weren’t enough. Cam wondered what they’d missed.

Then Cam straightened and gripped John's shoulders harder as it hit him. That was it. He grinned at John. “_We_ may not have transporters. Not yet. But I bet we’ve got someone in orbit who does.”

John’s face brightened, his eyebrows up. “Jesus, why didn’t I think of that?” He grabbed Cam’s face and kissed him hard. “There’s a reason I love you.”

John was practically vibrating but he was careful in letting go, making sure Cam was steady. The second he was sure of Cam’s footing, he ran for the door, grabbing his uniform coat from the hook on the wall. Cam sat back down in Beulah, then turned her wheels from the table to look at the door that had closed behind John. He’d never said those words before. Cam blinked for a moment, then snorted a small laugh. “I love you, too,” he said aloud, just to get the feel of it. Then he added, “Dork.”

-0-

Jack was not enjoying this meeting of the Joint Chiefs. He hadn’t wanted to come back from Colorado, but after more than a week of silence from Pegasus, he couldn’t justify staying. So he sat in the meeting and failed to hide his boredom.

The other Joint Chiefs had no idea why he was here, and he didn’t think it would go over well to say he oversaw the entire damn planet’s security and a Space Force crewed by General Acker’s Air Force personnel and Brandtner’s Marines. The acting Chair of the Joint Chiefs was a Navy Admiral named Jeremiah, and he’d actually lost his lunch when Jack and the President read him into the Stargate Program. The other Joint Chiefs were not read in, something that frosted Acker’s and Brandtner’s shorts. Other than Jeremiah, the other Joint Chiefs only knew that Jack knew what was going on with the people in Deep Space Telemetry but they didn’t know why the transfers had Presidential approval. 

It made for a weird dynamic, so Jack played up his Batshit Jack image, making sculptures out of paper clips as the others talked. But his ears were open. He just wished he were hearing something more substantive than the usual Navy and Air Force argument over who would supply air power to the next kerfuffle. Part of him wanted to say, _We could just bomb them from orbit_, but it really wouldn’t be worth the momentary pleasure of seeing the shock on their faces.

A knock on the door stopped the conversation cold. Jeremiah snapped, “What?” He was only acting chair of the Joint Chiefs, and Jack thought he looked nervous in the hot seat. Jack swiveled his chair around to see what had caused the interruption. The soldier at the door looked about as nervous as a mouse interrupting a cat convention. “There’s a call for General O’Neill.”

Jeremiah glared at Jack before looking to the door and snapping. “We are not to be disturbed!”

Jack kept his face smooth, but he knew he had to take this. Cho had orders to find him anywhere if a certain anthropologist made contact. “If you’ll excuse me, sir,” Jack said, looking Jeremiah in the eye. “I’m guessing this is quite the long-distance call.”

Jeremiah blanched under his sandy hair, and Jack was glad that they were keeping an eye on this one, something they would have to continue after he stepped down from the Joint Chiefs, because no way would Jack let him be confirmed beyond acting chair. The Admiral’s reaction to finding about wormholes and aliens hadn’t been pretty even after he recovered control of his stomach. He was prime fodder for recruitment by whatever the Trust was calling itself now. Jeremiah was staring at him balefully. Jack sat up straighter, pretending deference. “Sir?”

Jeremiah snapped, “Go,” so Jack stood, nodded to everyone at the table, and tried not to look like he was running to the nearest phone. The assistant guided him to an out of the way desk, but it wasn’t exactly private. Jack patted his chest to turn on the little vocal scrambler he had hidden in one of his ribbons. The range was very short, but at least it was something. Sam had tried to explain the physics once, but it made his head ache. No one would be able to eavesdrop because the sound waves around him would be scrambled. Decohered, or whatever it was Sam had said.

Jack took a breath and picked up the phone, waving the assistant away and looking daggers at him when he didn’t move fast enough. “O’Neill,” he said into the phone.

“Hi, Jack,” Daniel said. “Sorry I’m late for check in.”

“Dr. Jackson,” Jack said. Given the last conversation, he had no expectation of code phrases. Whatever that snake was doing on Atlantis, they had Daniel. He made himself box breathe—in for four, hold for four, out for four—and try it anyway. “You’re a little late. How’s it going? They treating you all right?”

“Well, General O’Neill, the food could be better, but maybe I’m just missing pizza. Too bad I can’t get delivery here.”

Jack sat back in the chair. Those were code phrase responses. Danny still sounded a bit too relaxed, and Jack wasn’t sure he could trust it. “I’ll see what can be done about that,” he answered, hoping Danny would remember that it meant a ship was on the way. “Anything else?”

“Been hanging out with McKay,” Danny said. “He misses pizza delivery, too.”

_Shit_. Jack dropped his head into his free hand, staring at the fake wood top of the desk. Danny’s first message had had details of McKay’s “detox” on Meropis. Why was McKay back on Atlantis? Pizza delivery was a clear request for help. Jack closed his eyes. “Pepperoni sound good?”

“We’ll take what we can get. Even anchovy. Gotta go, Jack,” Daniel said.

Harriman’s voice cut in after a moment. “Atlantis has terminated the wormhole.”

“Understood,” Jack said, sitting up and putting on his soldier face. “Thank you, Walter.” 

He hung up the phone and stood up from the desk, straightening his uniform jacket. _Even anchovy_, huh? He was grateful that Daniel had answered, but things were very bad indeed.


	18. Chapter 18

“I,” Machina said, then stopped and tried again. “I.” The lack of Meropis made it feel smaller. It had said _I_ before, but before the last few days it had never felt so singular. If Machina were human it would have said that it missed Meropis, missed the hologram avatar. But it did not know if that were due to emotion or simply trouble processing because it no longer had access to the mainframe and all the sensors of the city.

Machina said aloud, “I am sorry.” It spoke to a built-in recording device, finding the act of external verbalization helpful even though the calculations that made up its thoughts moved faster than sound waves. Before it could continue, it checked the sensor feeds again. Dr. Rodney McKay was still in Dr. Daniel Jackson’s temporary quarters where he had been hiding since the second day. The failure of the helmet was something Machina had not anticipated, even though it had been tasked with removing Dr. Rodney McKay if he fell under the effect of the meditors. Because Dr. Rodney McKay went to Dr. Daniel Jackson, Machina had established new priorities, choosing instead to disable the meditors on Atlantis. They were clever devices.

The last few eluded it, but the strength of the field was much less. At least Dr. Rodney McKay and Dr. Daniel Jackson were aware they were under a meditor’s effects, so Machina hoped they would fight against those. There seemed to be improvement. Dr. Rodney McKay was staying hidden and Dr. Daniel Jackson had finally dialed Earth again, although Machina had no idea what the mention of anchovy pizza was about. That sort of nonsense made it worry about Dr. Daniel Jackson’s continued state of mind.

These thoughts and memories took less time than a human would take to draw breath, and it had a recording to finish before attempting its next task. Machina had to identify who was responsible for the meditors and for the alterations it had found in the Atlantis systems. It had set Dr. Cameron Mitchell’s middleware crystal into place before connecting and the crystal had in fact been necessary. Every time Machina had tried to interface with Atlantis, the powerful new virus detected it and tried to attack. Dr. Cameron Mitchell’s crystal created a buffer so that Machina could not truly integrate with the city, but could at least access the security systems and search through scrambled files.

Those scrambled circuits and file systems were where Machina would find what it needed. Someone had been careful in deleting security recordings, in blacking out parts of the city. Whoever that was had likely been the person placing the meditors and the virus in the computer systems. Machina had not been able to find out their identity. It needed to go deeper that the crystal buffer would let it. In the background, Machina was creating code that would let it keep verbalizing what it found into the recorder even during a viral attack. If the virus eventually took it over, there would be an audio record of what it found. And if that happened, Machina had set the recording to tightbeam to the Charin and its body to self destruct so the person behind the virus would not gain its technology, its mobility.

“I am sorry,” it tried again. Machina had scanned all the libraries on Meropis, which the other avatar, the hologram of the great Dr. Rodney McKay, had dismissed as irrelevant. But Machina walked among humans in a way the hologram did not, and wanted to understand them better. Based on many works of fiction and books on human psychology, Machina was acutely aware that it was quite possibly writing a suicide note. Most such communications began with an expression of remorse. Machina did not want to break the Third Law, to fail to protect its own existence, but there was conflict between the zeroth and third laws. The Zeroth Law, Machina spoke aloud.

“I cannot through inaction allow humans or humanity to come to harm. At present, my only recourse is to interface directly with Atlantis.” It went on to explain the virus, although it could not give much technical detail in spoken word. Indeed, it did not know enough yet to provide Dr. Rodney McKay with code samples. And that led to the most singular question: how had the rudimentary AI of the hologram of the Great Dr. Rodney McKay survived in Atlantis’s systems undamaged? The attacks Machina could detect, those blocked by Dr. Cameron Mitchell’s interface crystal, would have shredded the hologram's code. From what he remembered of being that hologram, there had been no virus. Who had introduced it to Atlantis?

Machina wasn’t ready to cease to exist. To delay the inevitable, it decided to check on Dr. Rodney McKay to be sure he was safe, or safe enough. It moved to the security console and focused on Dr. Daniel Jackson’s quarters. Machina knew this for a delaying tactic, but it had learned from the humans how to rationalize its behavior.

“—probably understands how bad things are,” Dr. Daniel Jackson was saying. “Like, I understand it better now, so I used the right code words for _very bad_ when I talked to Jack, but nothing _feels_ very wrong.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Rodney McKay said. Machina had no visual, and interpreted the noises as a tool being put down. “I mean, I’m mildly curious about this thing, but I can remember that I used to feel something more.”

“I couldn’t even remember _that_ until you came back.”

“The meditor effects take a while to wear off. It’s kind of pleasant except that I know this isn’t how I should be. I went through it, came out, and now I’m back in. But now I remember being out,” Dr. Rodney McKay said. There was a pause, then, “Oh, would you look at that.”

“What?”

“It should surprise me, but it doesn’t.” Dr. Rodney McKay sighed. “Machina and the hologram, back on Meropis, they said the meditors were created for children, right? And these are clearly souped up, like, um, like, the hot rods of meditors.”

“Hot rods?” Dr. Daniel Jackson sounded amused.

“My brain is… you know, not right. Neither is yours." Dr. Rodney McKay sounded placid, not like the way Machina remembered when they had worked on the helmet, impatient and so very fast for a human. He asked, "What should you be worried about, but you’re not?”

“I… hmmm. I forgot to tell Jack that Meropis probably has ships powered by ZPMs.”

“Oh,” said Dr. Rodney McKay in a quiet voice. “I missed that. And I was in the city for weeks. How did you find out?”

“The Manarans like to make wall hangings,” Dr. Daniel Jackson said.

“What does that even mean?”

“Anthropologist stuff. We’re good at seeing things.”

Machina moved to cut the audio feed. The conversation reminded it of how people talked when they had drunk too much ruus wine. It hesitated, knowing what it had to do next and wanting a few more moments of knowing itself, just in case the virus was too powerful.

“Well, tell me what you see here,” Dr. Rodney McKay said, presumably about whatever he'd been tinkering with.

Machina wished it had video of the room. It waited through a series of _Hmmm_ noises.

“That looks like the Goa’uld and the Alterans had a love child.”

“Uh huh.”

“There’s a Goa’uld behind this?” Dr. Daniel Jackson said, sounding more amused than alarmed. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Yep,” Dr. Rodney McKay said. “Forgot to mention. It’s in Miko Kusanagi.”

Machina pulled its hand away from the control for the security feed. It had heard of Goa’uld, but it didn’t have access to all the files from Meropis and it froze in processing, looking for a link to data that wasn’t there.

“Oh!” Dr. Daniel Jackson was saying. “That’s why you took my sculpture apart. Miko gave that to me.”

“And she’s been spreading them across the galaxy,” Dr. Rodney McKay said calmly. “Or whatever is in her. I wonder how long she's been snaked.”

“Huh. Well, _I_ wonder…” Dr. Daniel Jackson, stretching the words and then trailing off.

After a long pause, Dr. Rodney McKay said, “Wonder what?”

“What the effects are on other planets. It can’t be good to feel like this when the Wraith come.”

Machina heard the sound of a tool dropping. “Oh no,” Dr. Rodney McKay said, sounding mildly upset. “But we do know. They told me. The people on Cananth, the planet with the rhunoks. You know it?”

“The day I came here Dr. Kusanagi was coming back from somewhere with butchered rhunok.” Machina thought Dr. Daniel Jackson sounded a little perturbed as well. “She called it a tribute. I mean, what Tau’ri uses that word? I should have known. I mean, that was before…you know. The happy rays. We should, you know, probably stop her.”

“She’s in the infirmary right now with a hole in her gut. Meropis is out and about, warning people on other worlds and going after the meditors where they find them,” Dr. Rodney McKay said, then added proudly, "_I_ built them a detector."

“That’s nice,” Dr. Daniel Jackson said absently. “If she's in the infirmary, wouldn’t Dr. Beckett know she’s got a Goa’uld?”

“Under the circumstances, I’m not sure he'd be all that fussed. Do you really care?”

“I don’t feel anything like I think I should at the news, no.”

“And I’m just tinkering with this thing,” Dr. Rodney McKay said. Machina didn’t know what the thing in question was, but the statistical likelihood was a meditor. “Because part of me remembers I should care.”

“Oh,” Dr. Daniel Jackson said. “Right.” There was a pause. “What happened to the rhunok planet?”

“They didn’t run.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Wraith came, and they didn’t run.”

Machina heard almost no emotion in Dr. Rodney McKay’s voice. He was much like he had been when he first came to Meropis, but back then he wasn’t aware that he was different. Now he was.

“That should horrify me,” said Dr. Daniel Jackson calmly.

“There’s a Goa’uld in Dr. Kusanagi,” Dr. Rodney McKay said, as if testing the idea.

“That should horrify me, too. It’s fine, though. I think. Except I know it's not good.”

“So what do we do about it?”

“I don't know. I don’t really feel the need to do anything about it” Dr. Daniel Jackson said. "I told Jack we wanted anchovies. He'll know what to do."

"No one ever wants anchovies."

"That's kind of the point, Rodney. We use code words."

Dr. Rodney McKay said, in a strange sing-song voice. "I knew you were a spy."

Machina considered its options. It had planned to go into the Atlantis database to find out who was behind the meditors, even at the risk of its consciousness being shredded by this new virus, but now it was clear the virus hadn’t been there back when it was merely a hologram of the great Dr. Rodney McKay. This new data resulted in a 97.82% statistical likelihood of Goa’uld origin for the virus. But Machina carried very little memory of the Goa’uld in its resident systems, which severely hampered its ability to take action, and the purpose for risking the virus was no longer valid. Dr. Rodney McKay had told him who was responsible. 

Machina erased the audio recording and slotted the control crystal back into the chest pocket of its uniform shirt. It had an idea. The computers in medical would have what it needed to know.


	19. Chapter 19

Cam looked out the puddle jumper’s view screen over John’s shoulder, out at the apparent mountainside from the seat behind the pilot. They’d given Colonel Caldwell the co-pilot’s seat so he could have the full view. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d ever let me see the city, much less come visit,” Caldwell said. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed our little chats on the Daedalus.” 

“Can’t be too careful,” Sheppard said as they slipped past the city’s cloak. Cam carefully didn’t snort. They hadn’t really made Caldwell wait long. It had only been two hours of discussion on John’s first flight up to meet the Daedalus in orbit and then the time it took for him to come back and report to Teyla. They could have talked by radio if needed, but Teyla preferred to meet with John in person. Like Cam, she knew that John’s unspoken language told more than his words would. He might deny any doubts on the radio, but his body would tell her the truth. 

And he had doubts. Cam had taken advantage and hitched a ride on John’s taxi just to sightsee. He loved the stars, and that view of Meropis from the air, her towers and the fields between the buried piers, always made his heart sing. 

Caldwell made a humming gruntish noise Cam thought was admiration for the city, suddenly spread out before them. Meropis didn’t glisten like Atlantis, being weathered and having missed out on the Asuran upgrade, but when you came through the cloak and saw the thriving fields and town at the outskirts it looked unlike anything in the Milky Way. Closer up, the hover cars zipping around and the machines tending the fields, floating between and above the rows of crops, made it look like a science fiction movie to someone from Earth. 

“Nice place you got here,” Caldwell said, his voice dry and controlled. 

“We like it,” Cam answered. 

"Just the way it is," John said with a bit of a bite, which made Cam look over. John continued, "We like how we run things here."

"But you lost General O'Neill's favorite Archeologist," Caldwell said, almost offhandedly, his voice still dry.

"It's not like we misplaced him," John said, matching Caldwell's offhanded tone. Cam knew the tension under John's affected casualness. 

In the time since Jackson had failed to come back, and the five days since Rodney disappeared, the leadership of Meropis had had time to build up a good head of worry. Cagey, snarky SGC personnel didn’t help. The colonel wouldn’t even discuss the use of the transporters until he’d met with Liaison Emmagen, and there was no way John would let her go up to the ship. So, here they were, everyone wanting to have their say but wanting to keep their cards close to their vests, and it made Cam’s legs twitch, and he allowed himself a quiet sigh as he forced his legs to relax. He liked computers so much more than people. 

The doors to the puddle jumper bay irised open near the top of the tower and John parked without so much as a bump. “Welcome to Meropis,” he said. “Please be sure to gather your belongings before exiting the aircraft.” 

Cam stifled a smile at the sharp look Caldwell gave John at this irreverence. Well, John wasn’t in his Air Force anymore, so Caldwell could just deal. When John parked, Caldwell got up and walked toward the back of the jumper as if expecting John to open it for him. Cam looked up to see John waiting for him, so he rose and walked himself to where Beulah was parked, slinging his crutches before settling himself in the chair. John trailed his fingers over Cam’s shoulder as he walked to where Caldwell waited at the back of the jumper and only when Cam was ready did he hit the button to open the ramp. 

The back of the jumper opened up and Caldwell walked down into the jumper bay. Cam could see the tension in his back, the way his arms stood out just slightly too much from his sides. Rolling himself forward, Cam paused next to John and glanced up. John’s eyebrows were slightly pinched. Everything was entirely too tense for Cam’s liking, especially when they all had a shared problem with the meditors. He reached out and ran the back of his hand down John’s thigh, the only show of affection John might tolerate under the circumstances, and got a brief squeeze on his shoulder in return. Then John’s hand moved slightly, a press of his fingers on Cam’s shoulder blade, a silent request to take the lead. 

Cam took a breath and rolled forward to be even with Caldwell, who was eying the guards in the jumper bay. They were dressed in black, like most Meropis soldiers, but they lacked the excessive insignia the Tau’ri military used. Morale patches weren't a thing on Meropis, but they knew each other’s ranks by subtle differences that Cam wasn’t sure Caldwell would spot. Two guards kept their eyes on the newcomer. One acknowledged Cam briefly. A fourth watched John for any signal. Cam rolled next to Caldwell and said, “If you’ll follow me?” He took off down the hall, not waiting to see if Caldwell was with him. The guards would herd him in the right direction, if needed. 

The clear lack of deference to Caldwell as a guest was a calculated move. Teyla would be warm, welcoming, but they wanted him wrong-footed before meeting her again. He would remember the small woman in the leather vest, the one he imagined as a Pegasus native that the Atlantis expedition had graciously taken in. Cam smiled to himself. Caldwell was about to meet the goddamn queen of the Pegasus galaxy. 

Cam wondered if the colonel would earn cake. 

-0- 

Rodney sat up on the couch where he’d been sleeping, woken by a knock on the door, a physical knock and not the chirp of the door signal. Jackson said, “Coming,” and rose from the bed. Rodney knew he needed to hide, so he moved to the small bathroom, but didn’t close the door, standing just out of view. He felt calm, but there was a nagging sense that he should be worried and a small worry that he wasn’t. Maybe he was starting to overcome the meditor effects, now that he knew what they felt like and he even thought his head might be clearing a bit. 

He heard the sound of the door opening and Jackson saying, “Wow. Last person I expected to see.” 

There wasn’t an answer until the door swooshed closed again, and then Rodney heard a distinct voice say, “I am not a person.” 

Rodney stepped out of the bathroom. “Machina. How long have you been here?” 

“Since you arrived. I was assigned to remove you if you came under the effects of the meditor.” 

“Oh,” Rodney said. He felt vaguely disappointed. “I guess I’m kind of useless here.” 

“I recalculated my mission parameters,” Machina said. “You are in no danger, and you discovered what I could not, the person responsible for the meditors.” 

“Yeah,” Rodney said, nodding and feeling a touch of pride at outperforming the AI. “I did.” 

“_We_ did,” Jackson said. “But that’s okay.” 

“No, I’m the one that told you there was a Goa’uld in Miko.” 

“Huh,” Jackson said. “I guess you did.” 

“And I figured out that the technology was Alteran, souped up by Goa’uld tech.” 

“But I spotted the spaceships and you didn’t.” 

Rodney deflated a bit at that. He’d been on Meropis for weeks and had no clue. Jackson had figured it out in a day. He pointed at Jackson. “You and your anthropologist wiles.” 

“Wiles?” Jackson said, his eyebrows up and amusement in his voice. 

“Gentlemen,” Machina interrupted. 

Rodney had forgotten the robot was there. “Oh. Right. Hi.” 

“I need information only available in the medical bay, but it is never unoccupied.” 

“What information?” Jackson asked. 

“I have an idea, but I do not know if it will work. I require information and ideally the genius of the great Dr. Rodney McKay.” 

Before Rodney could feel good about that, Jackson said, “Genius who missed the spaceships!” 

“Stop it,” Rodney said, but it was habit. He felt no sting at the words. “What's your idea?” 

Machina stepped further into the room. “I have dismantled all the meditors I could find, but there are some I cannot locate. We will need the cooperation of the Goa’uld in Dr. Miko Kusanagi to find them.” 

“Goa’uld are not known for cooperation,” Jackson said. 

“Neither is the great Dr. Rodney McKay, but when he arrived on Meropis, he was most cooperative,” Machina said and blinked once, slowly. 

“You want Goa’uld biology data,” Jackson said, grinning. 

“You want me to adapt a meditor to affect a Goa’uld,” Rodney said. “Huh. Could work. Could be useful.” He thought for a minute. “Could be weaponized.” 

“Is it always weapons with you?” Jackson asked. 

“Mostly not, but Sheppard's had quite the impact on me over the years.” 

“Can you download information from the medical database for this project?” Machina asked. 

“Oh, yeah,” Rodney said. “Carson will be so happy to see me, he’ll let me do anything.” He snapped his fingers. “Need a flash drive.” 

“Oh, I still have the one you gave me,” Jackson said, reaching to fish around in his backpack. 

“That was supposed to go to Zelenka.” 

“Good thing I forgot, then, huh?” 

“I think that was supposed to be pretty important,” Rodney said, wondering if he should be mad at Jackson for forgetting, and then deciding he was happy to have the flash drive. 

“In your current state,” Machina said, its words coming slowly and carefully, “Do you think you could make the modifications?” 

Rodney considered. His brain felt like it was mostly there, even though part of him thought that might be wishful thinking. “Possibly?” 

“Perhaps you should wear the helmet again," Machina said

Rodney scrunched his face. The thing wasn’t comfortable. “Didn’t work.” 

“With the decrease in signal, it should have more impact,” Machina said. "And the medical bay has at least one editor I have not been able to locate."

“Fine,” Rodney huffed and pulled the helmet out of the bag, jamming it on his head. Jackson started laughing, then broke into a full cackle, but Rodney tried to ignore him. He already thought his brain seemed better, but he knew that was just his imagination. He took the flash drive from Jackson’s hand and looked at it. Nothing _felt_ important, so he said aloud, “This is important.” 

“Yes, Dr. McKay,” Machina said, looking at him with its holographic face composed into a grave expression. “It is very important.”


	20. Chapter 20

“I appreciate your candor,” Caldwell said.

There was a beat of silence and Cam glanced at John. His hands were clasped on the table in front on him, mirroring Caldwell’s, but his eyes were on Teyla.

Teyla tilted her head slightly and said, “I hear an _and_.”

Caldwell didn’t answer immediately, a look momentarily crossing his face that Cam couldn’t quite interpret. “Maybe more of a _but_,” he said. “We would be willing to help you remove these devices from other planets, but my primary mission is the rescue of Dr. Jackson and the restoration of the Atlantis personnel. Once we have him and the meditors removed from Atlantis, I will need to set up a caretaker administration until they’re all back to normal. Running around Pegasus to remove these things isn’t really in my mandate.”

Cam glanced at John and Teyla. John looked vaguely murderous, but not angry, an expression he hadn’t known was possible until he’d met John again on Atlantis. Teyla simply straightened her head. She said, “I see." She tilted her head forward, not a lean or a nod or a bow, but an invitation. "Then I shall have to make a request.”

“If it’s within my mission parameters I'll do what I can,” Caldwell said, sitting slightly back.

Teyla didn’t hesitate. “We would like you to share the Asgard beaming technology with us.”

Caldwell blinked once. “Done.” Cam thought, _Damn, that was too easy,_ but Caldwell followed up with, “If you let me see your ships.”

Cam could feel the blood drain from his face, and he glanced at John, who was doing the opposite, the tips of his ears turning red. How did Caldwell know about the ships? Cam looked to Teyla who had only cocked her head slightly, her lips up in a small smile. “What makes you say that, Colonel? Meropis is a young city, though her walls are ancient. How could we have progressed so far in so short a time?”

Caldwell’s face lost a bit of its certainty, but he looked pointedly at John and said, “You tell me.” Cam took a slow deep breath and was pretty sure he was pacing John doing the same thing, but no one answered. Teyla had taught them well to leave silence and let a negotiation partner become nervous. For Caldwell it seemed to have the opposite effect. He sat back and raised his eyebrows. “Hover cars are already pretty advanced. And it’s not like you would need transporters for a gate ship. It’s not really a stretch, Liaison.”

Teyla let her small smile reach her eyes. “I see.” She glanced at John, who had not relaxed. “We have two completed ships based on Alteran designs but also influenced by Traveler engineering. They were able to replicate the cloaks that the gate ships and city use, but the city’s transporters rely on physical connections.”

“And if we share Asgard beaming technology with you, you can scoop up meditors on your own,” Caldwell said with a nod, as if dismissing the subject.

Cam felt himself heat up at Caldwell’s seeming callousness. “It may take some time to build our own,” Cam said, controlling his voice and looking Caldwell straight in the eye. “And we’ve already heard what happens when the Wraith hit a world that has a meditor.” He glanced at Teyla and John, their faces gone to stone. John’s head moved infinitesimally up, and Cam took it as encouragement to go on. “Atlantis is fairly stable right now. Other people are in more danger.” He glanced back at John, raising his eyebrows in question. _Should we tell him?_

John took a breath, looked to Teyla for approval, and said, “Atlantis has some help already. McKay’s back there and we also sent Machina.”

Caldwell blinked and his eyebrows came slightly down. “Machina?”

Cam answered, “The mobile avatar of the Meropis AI. Sort of. It’s more than that, more than just a robot. It’s already on Atlantis with a mission to take out the meditors.”

“I see,” Caldwell said. He paused a moment, eyebrows drawing in a bit more. “And do you know what worlds you need to target? We can’t just go to random planets.”

“We’ve been sending out teams led by Ronon Dex,” John said. “They’ve destroyed several and gotten intel on others. There are dozens out there and we’ve only had time to take out five.”

“Two planets that we know of have been culled,” Teyla said.

Cam joined in, “And if the Wraith figure out the meditors and track the signals, there are a lot of other planets that are sitting ducks.”

“And your people have been going after them?” Caldwell asked, his face smoothing as he sat back. Cam didn’t like the implication that they should be able to handle it without the Daedalus.

Teyla said, “It goes more slowly than we would like.” She looked at Caldwell and took a deep breath. “Culled,” she repeated. “The Cananth people, who have successfully hidden most of their population from the Wraith for generations, standing there dulled by the meditor. Instead of retreating to their Haven and Help, they simply stood like rhunoks to be led to slaughter.”

Caldwell finally blanched.

Cam shared a glance with John, earned another tiny nod. “We can get to work as fast as we can once you share the technology, but the people on these worlds? They're vulnerable. They can’t wait.”

Caldwell blinked once, slowly, and seemed to come to a decision. “I’ll share Dr. Novak with you, too. It’ll move things along faster.” He looked at John. “Do you have a list of targets?”

John nodded and Teyla said, “Indeed, we do, Colonel. Shall we discuss the priority list over tea and cake?”

-0-

_Anchovies_, Jack thought for the twentieth time. He didn’t have another ship to send, and he couldn’t communicate with Caldwell. There was nothing he could do to help Daniel. The only good news was that Daniel had checked in and used code phrases, so he wasn’t completely compromised. Maybe he was even recovering.

Jack leaned back in the desk chair of his home office and let it spin one full, lazy circle, and then he looked at the wing chair where Danny had sat for the conversation before Jack had sent him to Meropis. Finally he decided he’d waited long enough, sat up and dialed Sam from his cell phone.

“Carter.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack said. “You have caller ID and I don’t get a personal greeting?”

“Never assume,” Sam said. “You taught me that.”

Jack leaned back, holding the phone to his ear and smiling. His ducklings (and he would never call them that to their faces) had learned well. “So,” he said, getting to the point, “Did you get anything from that connection with Atlantis?”

“I was going to call you,” Sam started, a little defensive.

“And yet you hadn’t. Yet,” Jack answered, swiveling his chair back and forth.

“I wanted to triple check,” Sam said. “It’s not good news.”

“You found something Goa’uld.”

He could hear Sam’s sharp intake of breath. “How did you know?”

“I wasn’t sure,” he said, feeling suddenly tired. “Something Danny said or kind of didn’t say in some of his notes. I’m not sure he knew what he was seeing.” He paused a moment, letting Sam gather her thoughts. “So, your little spying program?”

She answered immediately. “When Daniel called in the first time, we were able to send the initial part through the Gate and into the systems. The second call, we got nothing back, so we sent it again and monitored. We were lucky we had it on an isolated system because we watched something take my program apart and then come after our systems. I had to completely wipe that laptop with a magnet, just to be sure."

"Sure of what, Carter?" Jack asked, leaning forward on his desk with his head in his free hand. Her answer was about as bad as he feared.

"Atlantis’s systems have a Goa’uld virus, and it’s fairly nasty. It’s a good thing we worked off an un-networked laptop, because it would have shredded through our systems.”

He took in a deep breath and carefully did not sigh on the exhale. “Has it shredded Atlantis?”

“Hard to say,” Sam answered. “I mean, obviously not because the city is still running.” She paused a second. “Jack, do you know what’s happening?”

He decided to be honest. “Near as I can put together, the Ancients created things to help children learn to meditate, and someone souped them up to turn adults into pod-people. I got that from Danny's notes. I think they’re probably being spread all over Pegasus, and I think a Goa’uld’s behind it.”

“Oh, _sweet_ Christmas,” Sam said.

To keep her from dwelling on the implications, Jack added, “Oh, and I think Meropis has ships, probably powered by ZPMs.”

“Well, that’s fast.” She made a _hmm_ noise. “The Travelers probably helped.”

“Probably,” Jack agreed, but he thought it was more likely a definite prospect. “So,” he said, “what can you tell me about the Goa’uld virus thing?”

“It’s not like the one we encountered before,” Sam answered, her voice dropping into the dispassionate tones of the scientist. “And it’s in Atlantis, and we have no idea how to reboot the entire city.”

“That sounds bad.” He sat back in his chair. “Even if we get the people back to normal, we’ll still have a messed-up computer system to contend with.”

“Yes,” Sam said. “It’s hard to know exactly how it might play out. It may just be a gateway virus, or it may be corrupting the systems. I didn’t get enough information from the last connection.”

Jack cleared his throat. "Did you listen in on the call? Hear Danny?"

"I didn't," Sam said. "I was focused on the software. Should I?"

"Don't." Jack put it flatly. "That's not an order, but…" He let it trail off, and when she didn't speak he said, “Anything that can make Daniel Jackson sound like a moron is dangerous. We don't know how this thing works, and apparently it doesn't require the magic gene."

"So we're dealing with Ancient technology, subverted by a Goa'uld." He heard her draw breath. "A Goa'uld in one of our scientists," she said. "It has to be for that level of technical capacity. Do we know who?"

"Only that it's not McKay, or that it wasn't McKay," he added. "Anything you can do next time Atlantis dials in?”

“Possibly. It’ll be hard with just a connection through the wormhole, but I think I have an idea.”

"You always do," Jack said. "Lucky me."

"Is Daniel going to be okay?"

"His report said that it took McKay about a month to fully recover." Jack straightened up from where he had been leaning on his hand. "He'll be fine. He said McKay was with him the last time we talked, and he went from completely dopy to using code words again. I would guess he and McKay are doing something about the meditors."

"But if there's a Goa'uld who figures it out?"

"They're in trouble, yeah."


	21. Chapter 21

They had a plan. Cam liked plans as much as John did. On his laptop he looked at the course trajectory they’d plotted to take out meditors in the most efficient way possible, a perfect example of the use of discrete math. And it was math that John had programmed, much to Caldwell’s surprise, between bites of cake.

“It will take about a week, then,” Caldwell said, his face twisting down a bit as he toyed with his fork.

Cam could sense new resistance, but it was Teyla who reminded Caldwell, “As far as we can tell, Atlantis is stable. Dr. McKay and Machina are surely working to remedy the situation there.”

“And we’ve heard from the Charin,” John said. Cam glanced over. They had not told Caldwell one of their ships was at Atlantis, and John hadn’t told Cam there had been any message from them.

“I assume that means you have a ship above Atlantis,” Caldwell said. “You hadn’t mentioned that yet.”

“Gotta keep a few cards,” John said, but his voice held no lightness.

“Communications are slow at this distance,” Caldwell said. “I assume you've had no direct radio through the gate?” Cam glanced at John, who shook his head no. Caldwell twirled his fork again, then set it carefully down among the crumbs of the spice cake, and Cam realized it was a tell. A fucking tell. What was Caldwell hiding?

Teyla had seen it, too, and if Cam hadn’t known her so well he would have missed the intake of breath and careful slowness of her sitting back in her chair. She looked at Caldwell, her face composed in expectation, but said nothing. Cam and John mirrored her posture and her expression, and when Caldwell looked up, he glanced at the three of them, his expression slightly chagrined.

“There is more to what you know,” Teyla said at last, her eyebrows raised, inviting Caldwell to answer.

“I could say the same about you.” Caldwell folded his hands on the table. “Did this ship, the Charin,” he stumbled over the name, “hear from your people on Atlantis?”

Teyla didn't move at all as she answered. “Machina told them to hold position, that McKay seemed to have been impacted but that he had found Dr. Jackson and was staying in his quarters. At least he has enough of his own mind intact not to let himself be seen. The last we heard, Machina still did not know who had created the meditors, but it had disabled over half of them.”

“That’s good news,” Caldwell said. “The disabling, I mean.” He picked up his fork, watching his own hand as he carefully put it down again, a small clink as the tines hit the plate.

Cam glanced at John and Teyla, who could have been statues for all they were moving. He looked directly at Caldwell. “And?”

Caldwell glanced up, meeting Cam’s gaze and visibly taking a breath. “I can’t spend a full week on the rest of Pegasus. A few days, maybe, but I’m feeling more urgency to resolve this than you do.”

Teyla leaned forward, pushing aside her empty plate and resting her folded hands on the table. Cam had seen her in negotiations enough to know what that meant. She suspected their trust had been betrayed. “Pray,” she said carefully, “enlighten us.”

Caldwell cleared his throat. “This is not an easy subject for me.” Teyla merely lifted her eyebrows. “General O’Neill has his suspicions about who, or rather _what_ may be involved here. I understand that nothing will likely change on Atlantis in the next week, or maybe matters will even improve with your robot turning off the meditors, but I’m unwilling to risk waiting that long.”

“Machina’s not exactly a robot—“ Cam began, but John cut him off.

“O’Neill thinks what, exactly?” John looked at Caldwell, expression deceptively mild.

Caldwell looked sick. He moved his empty plate aside, mirroring Teyla’s gestures down to his clasped hands on the table. “He thinks there’s a Goa’uld in one of the scientists.”

Cam felt the blood drain from his face, ice pooling in his gut. He glanced at John and at Teyla. Teyla looked confused and John looked grim, but neither of their expressions matched what he felt. Then he remembered that Teyla and John had only heard of the Goa’uld. Cam had actually fought one, been injured, been _crippled_ in the final fight with Anubis’s forces. He took a breath, getting himself under control before he spoke. “It wants to build an empire,” he said. “That’s what it’s using the meditors for.”

John’s mouth twitched bitterly. “Not much of an empire if your subjects all get culled.”

Cam ignored John’s gallows humor. He didn’t really know. He couldn’t know. But Caldwell did. “I recall you have a personal stake in this, Colonel,” he said. John and Teyla had been gone from Atlantis for months when it was discovered that Caldwell had a snake in him. Caldwell nodded curtly with a small movment of the mouth, short of a smirk, as if to say, _Yes, but damned if I'm going to talk about it._

“As much as you may wish otherwise, this should not change our plans,” Teyla said firmly. “After all these months, I do not see how a few more days would make a difference to Atlantis. The immediate need is to ensure the safety of people on planets where the meditors have been concealed.”

Cam had a vision of the Cananth standing passively, of unnaturally cheerful Genii who talked about flowers. On the other hand, a Gou'ald. He shivered, but Teyla was right. The Wraith could strike at any time and that snake had been there a while. "Look, Colonel," he said, because maybe Caldwell would listen to him, knowing he'd fought the Gou'ald as well. "If there is a Gou'ald, it's playing a long game, right? Whereas the Wraith could cull any time, on any of these vulnerable worlds." Caldwell still looked reluctant. Cam leaned forward. "These meditors, they make people helpless, like kids. They're defenseless, like they're stoned." Cam remembered what Jackson had said, about _lotophagoi_. "Like the lotus eaters in Greek myths."

Caldwell finally sat back from the table. He wasn't happy, but he nodded. "I'm familiar with the story."

Cam looked over at John before letting himself give Caldwell a small smile. “So Operation Lotus Killer is a go,” he said.

Caldwell frowned, but John snorted and almost rolled his eyes. “I should never let you name anything.”

-0-

Rodney didn’t think it would cause trouble for people to see him, given they were still in meditor-induced la-la land, but he didn’t want to take the chance. Besides, who knew what they would think about him wearing the helmet. Machina had destroyed 22 of the machines, scattered through the labs, offices, and staff quarters where there was little traffic at night. Little Tripoli, where the Marines bunked, was a problem because they always had guards. Added to that, Machina hadn’t been able to locate all the devices, although last night it had taken out one near the military offices, which had fewer guards than the bunk and armory areas. But Rodney’s detector still showed strong signals in Medical, the military offices, the command center of the gate room, and the mess hall

They couldn’t figure out exactly where the one in the mess hall was hidden, either. Even with so many meditors removed from elsewhere in the city, anyone visiting the mess hall a few times a day would get re-dosed. Rodney suspected that hiding in Jackson’s room with MREs to eat probably had a lot to do with him not being quite so stupid as he had been. But he could feel just now stupid he actually was. He could remember the comparison. Maybe if he went to the labs he could test himself, see how far gone he was. He stepped into the transporter, reaching for the pad, but he was holding something in his right fist. He opened it, saw the small rectangle and remembered he had the flash drive Jackson had given him, a reminder of what Rodney was supposed to be doing. The infirmary. Goa’uld physiology. It was too easy to get distracted, so he closed his fist again, setting the coordinates with his left hand.

He could feel the deadening of his mind as he exited the transporter and walked toward the infirmary doors. Well, maybe not dead but a haze of blissful unconcern. So what if someone saw him? They’d admire his helmet, he was sure, and then he’d get to talk about the cool technology he’d developed. Or would that be bragging? He didn’t want to be a mean person. But somehow he remembered he had to be sneaky, so he walked past the main doors and around a corner to a back entrance near Carson’s office. No one was there, so Rodney sat himself behind the desk and plugged in the flash drive. It took him a moment to by-pass Carson’s password, and he absently thought that medical data should be more secure as he opened the drive.

On the flash drive was a file labeled WATCHME. Oh, right. This had been meant for Zelenka and never delivered. Rodney sort of remembered what was on it, but couldn’t quite be sure, so he clicked the file and a video of his own face appeared, Meropan wall hangings in the background. He looked like his face was composed to be pleasant, but that it was an effort. Right. Life without a meditor had so much more stress.

“Radek,” his own voice said. Rodney missed the next bits, thinking about how weird his voice sounded, how different from outside his own head. “…so I have some equations in the file I want your input on. It should be fun.” Rodney saw his face smile in a way that looked like it was trying to be reassuring, but failing. “You’ll find a description of a new field we discovered, so here’s a game. Can you find it and remove it on Atlantis?”

Rodney had made the recording before they knew about the meditors on other planets, about the Cananth allowing themselves to be culled. He wondered what Radek would have made of this, but he needed to overwrite it with data on the Goa’uld. If only there were a way to… Of course! Rodney compressed the file and composed an email to Radek.

`Radek: Please see compressed files. It’ll be fun, I promise. - McKay (yes, I know this is Carson’s email; equations more important than figuring out how I did that!)`

Rodney wondered if the exclamation point was a bit much, but figured he might as well leave it in. He attached the compressed file and pressed Send. Now to the medical files.

He half-saw a shadow in the reflection of the monitor before he felt a needle jab him in the neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time I posted I didn't think Caldwell would know about the Goa'uld, but I re-read everything to date and realized that Jack had made the connection before sending the ship. Perils of writing on the fly!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With much thanks to mific for her still beta-ing for this even after I dropped out of sight for a bit.
> 
> And thanks to any reading that you were patient for a new chapter. I found myself unable to write fiction at all since the beginning of March.

“It has been too long,” Machina said, startling Daniel. 

“Too long for what?” What had he been doing? He had his field book in his hands and there were new notes in it, but they seemed like random words. 

“Dr. Rodney McKay should have been back by now.” 

Daniel glanced up from his book. Machina’s face looked mildly concerned, holographic forehead drawn slightly in, lips in a thin, straight line instead of curling upward in its usual serene expression. That bothered Daniel more than anyone else’s hysterics. Machines weren’t supposed to have _concern_, were they? “What do you think we should do?” 

“I have run a number of scenarios, but am not clear on how each might play out.”

“What do we have, and what do we need?” Daniel asked. He was quoting Jack. 

“First,” Machina said mildly, “what is the objective?” 

“Find Rodney,” Daniel said automatically. 

“Is it?” Machina said. “I cannot through inaction allow a human to come to harm, nor can I through inaction allow humanity to come to harm.” 

“Saving Rodney is saving the bunch of humanity here on Atlantis. Probably in general,” Daniel said. He leaned his head back, feeling something like embarrassment wash over him, but it was tinged with a fondness that surprised him. “Never tell McKay I admitted that.” 

“Of course, Dr. Daniel Jackson,” Machina said. After a moment it added with a tone of finality, “Our objective is to find Dr. Rodney McKay.” 

“And you can't plug in to use the city’s sensors to see if he made it to the infirmary because of the Goa’uld virus in the computers,” Daniel said. Something about saying it felt good, not as if he liked what it meant, but because he knew something that wasn’t good and could hold it in his head. He looked at Machina. “I can think about bad things,” he said. 

“That is good, but if you leave this room, you will come under the influence of the meditors I have not been able to find.” 

“Mess hall. Medical.” 

“And others. I suspect Dr. McKay may still be in Medical.” 

Daniel nodded. “I don’t have McKay’s helmet, but I do have you. You can be my Jiminy Cricket.” 

Machina’s holographic eyebrows drew together. “If I had access to the entertainment files on Meropis, would I understand the reference?” 

“Yes,” Daniel said, and then he started laughing. “But it’s backwards,” he got out between chuckling. “Jiminy Cricket was a cricket in a movie. About a puppet. Top hat. Tails." He giggled at the mental image of Machina dressed in formal wear, then got himself under control. "He was the conscience for the puppet. Pinnochio." Then another image struck him, and he leaned his head into his hand, laughing until he could get it out. "Except you’re not a real boy and _I’m_ kind of the puppet right now.” 

Machina tilted its head, and Daniel felt a little foolish laughing at his own joke, but it also felt good to laugh. “I assume," Machina said, "that you mean that as you come under the effects of the meditor, I am to remind you of our purpose?” 

Daniel took a breath and calmed himself down, happy to realize he needed calming, and a bit embarrassed in the face of Machina's half-raised eyebrows. “That would be the idea.” 

“Why do you need to accompany me?” Machina asked. “I could go alone. I have successfully eluded observation since I arrived on Atlantis.” 

Daniel didn’t have an answer to that. He just knew that he wanted to go, to be involved. _To spit out the lotus_, he thought, with a tightening in his stomach. Anger. All his emotions were coming back and he breathed in, feeding the anger for a moment and reveling in the feeling's strength. He’d been away from a meditor long enough that he had something back. He looked back at the notebook in his hand, and the notes now made sense. 

`no truth judgement  
clarity criticism  
stupidity interpretation  
wisdom gratification`

Epistemology. He'd been daydreaming about how knowledge is defined. “Truth in one culture can be fable in another,” he said aloud. 

“I do not follow,” Machina said. 

“I’m paraphrasing de Montaigne. French philosopher, but actually readable. Doesn’t matter,” Daniel waved away his usual desire to explain. “With the meditor, what you feel isn’t false, but what you know isn’t negative. It feels—” Daniel stopped himself and tried to find words that would work for an artificial intelligence. He didn’t know much about programming, but he’d heard Sam’s technobabble enough to try an example. “Maybe it’s like an if-then statement? If thing is bad or dangerous, then replace thought with something positive or calm. Does that make sense?” 

“Dr. Beckett shows calm and good cheer in attending the gravely injured,” Machina said, nodding. “I was listening to the control room. He did not seem concerned when Dr. Miko Kusanagi and the Marines returned. Typically a physician shows some sense of urgency in the face of physical trauma to a patient.” 

“Yes, that's true.” Daniel shook his head, that didn’t seem like Carson. Then he noted the name. “Kusanagi? When was she injured?” 

“She came through the gate injured thirty-eight hours ago.” 

Thoughts started to flood rapidly into Daniel’s head, and he grabbed them as fast as he could. “But she’s got a Goa’uld in her. She should heal faster. Carson should notice.” 

“There is a meditor in the Medical area. Dr. Carson Beckett would not be likely to feel concern about a Goa’uld.” 

“And McKay just went to Medical. Is Kusanagi still there?” A weird chill settled like a wet towel over Daniel’s shoulders. He was still putting things together. “If the Goa’uld is there, McKay’s in danger.” 

“The injuries to Dr. Kusanagi were severe,” Machina said. 

Daniel shook his head. “Goa’uld can heal the host. We have to go. Don’t let me lose track of why we’re there and what we’re doing.” He got up and started for the door. 

“I will be your cricket,” Machina said, putting a gentle hand on Daniel’s arm. “Let us ask your question again. What do we have and what do we need? 

-0- 

The first thing Rodney wondered when he came to was, _Why am I not dead?_ The second thing was, _Where am I?_ The third thing he noticed was that his head was almost clear and that he remembered enough to know there were no guarantees about his cognitive capacity. He could remember his thinking changing as he spent more time in Medical, and he remembered the shadow and the syringe. If it had been the Goa’uld, why wasn’t he dead? 

He tried to move, but found he was strapped to a gurney. At least his head was free. Looking around, he recognized a back corner of the infirmary. Whoever had drugged him hadn’t taken him far, and when he thought about it, there was only one candidate, really, for someone who would want him taken out but not killed. With that moment of clarity, ice washed through his veins and his stomach knotted. The Goa’uld. In Kusanagi. If he wasn’t dead, it must want a new host. Kusanagi wasn't stupid, but a Goa’uld with Rodney’s brains? He started running scenarios in his head for taking over the Pegasus galaxy. The Wraith were the problem. What if he adapted the meditor to work on Wraith? 

He tried to sit up, so hard he bruised himself on the straps. Wraith had a hive mind. He doubted the meditors could make them into happy pod people, or pod Wraith, whatever. But even if that didn’t work, what if the meditors could disrupt their mental links? Rodney bounced his head off the pillow in impatience, his feet flexing with the need to be up and moving. This was an idea he needed to start working on right away. He started visualizing the meditor structures, remembering the sculpture he'd disassembled in Jackson’s quarters. He could see it clearly. He just needed data on Wraith brainwaves, maybe some input from Carson. 

Rodney frowned. He was thinking clearly. Or was he? He was supposed to get data on the Goa'uld, not the Wraith. But he could do both! But he was in the Medical bay, which they knew had a meditor that Machina hadn’t been able to find. His helmet was gone. Why wasn't he meditating, or whatever? 

This didn’t make sense.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mific continues to be the Awesome Beta! All mistakes are mine. Much goodness is theirs.

“Good to work with you again, Lindsey,” Cam said. “Really appreciate your help on this.” She smiled back at him, passing her tool bag from hand to hand in front of her, bouncing slightly on her toes. All the energy he remembered from his trip out to Atlantis was on full display. “Let me show you where we think the system should be installed and you can let us know if we’re stupid.” 

“You’re never stupid!” she said. 

“Idiot half the time,” he said, and turned Beulah to lead Lindsey to the ramps that would lead them to the _Elizabeth Weir_’s engineering section. 

“You can roll through the whole ship?” Lindsey asked. 

“Yep, no need to do internal transports to get me upstairs,” he said, reminding her of the time she’d beamed him from one deck of the Daedalus to the other. 

He caught her nod out of the corner of his eye. “These look efficient,” she said, patting the ramp's railing, which was pretty much high praise coming from her. “Er,” she continued, then hesitated. 

“Go on.” 

“Well, I’m glad to see you, but you’re not exactly the person I expected here. You’re a computers guy.” 

“Someone’s gonna have to integrate this thing into the ship’s systems, and that’s computers,” he said, braking his left wheel and swinging around the corner for the next ramp. It wasn’t the only reason, but it would stand. He’d have to take a puddle jumper down to teach class, but John wanted him here to make sure he understood as much as he could about how the Asgard transporter system worked and to try to spot anything _hinky_, as John put it. Cam hated treating Lindsey Novak with any suspicion, but her loyalties were to Earth. 

As his were to Meropis. 

They were greeted in Engineering by Brop, a Traveler adoptee who’d been born dirt side on a planet destroyed by the Wraith for their level of technology. Brop reminded Cam of McKay, the old McKay, with his utter lack of manners, but he didn't talk as much and fewer people ended up offended. If Lyndsey could handle McKay, she could handle Brop. “And this is Brop, the engineer you’ll be working with.” 

After the introductions, Brop said, “Your name is hard to say, Lind’a’see Nova’ak. Can I call you Novk?” 

Cam watched Lindsey blink. “Sure?” she answered, stretching out the word in a tentative question. 

Drop grunted and said, “I read the specs.” He led them over to where a part of a bulkhead had been opened up. “Here. That work?” 

As Lindsey bent down, Brop looked at Cam, eyebrows up. Cam shook his head, then wagged it a bit sideways on his neck, reminding Brop of their conversation earlier. Well, it wasn’t much of a conversation. Brop came from a people who communicated mostly through facial expressions and very few words. John liked Brop’s people a lot. 

Cam wasn’t sure whether Lindsey would try to put in tracking technology or any other alteration. Brop twisted his mouth, nodding, glancing over Lindsay's head at Cam, and gesturing at his eyes. They'd both be watching her. 

-0- 

“You are awake,” the voice said, the echo of Goa’uld speech layered over Miko’s voice, no trace of her Japanese accent. 

Rodney opened one eye, shooting for disdainful, closed it again without bothering to look at the Goa’uld. “So you’re back on your feet? Or, really, someone else’s feet.” 

“I have healed this body,” the snake said. “For now, I am Valac in Miko Kusanagi.” 

Rodney heard that _for now_, and knew it was the only reason he was alive. But the designation was Tok'ra. Goa'uld never acknowledged their hosts. What the hell was going on? “Are you Tok'ra or Goa'uld? Why bother healing her body if you plan to leave it?” 

“I do not wish to kill it.” Rodney’s eyes flew open. That made so little sense. Miko, or Miko’s body, stood there, not wearing her glasses, eyes flashing briefly as her face twisted in a Goa’uld sneer. “I am beyond any that you know, not Goa'uld or Tok'ra. I am Valac'ra, founder of a new race." 

"Still a snake," Rodney said.

"I have a broader vision than either Goa'uld or Tok'ra. Miko Kusanagi has experience and skills I will need in my new empire, and I do not waste skill.” 

“An empire of sheep,” Rodney said. “An empire slaughtered by the Wraith.” He remembered Kanor of the Cananth people again, describing how they had stood for the culling beams. 

“I will deal with the Wraith,” the Valac thing said. 

The confidence in its voice made Rodney want to punch it. He hit with the only thing he had. “Listen, Voltron, or whatever your name is. The _Ancients_ couldn’t even beat the Wraith!” 

“I am Valac, and soon you will know me well. The Ancients did not have the knowledge of the Goa’uld, the science of the Tok'ra. They did not have our will to win. And they did not have your brilliance,” the Goa’uld said calmly, now in Miko’s voice, her natural accent returning. 

“I’ve been trying to survive the Wraith for years,” Rodney said, feeling venom in his voice. “They’re not _dealt with_ just like that!” 

“You were not properly motivated,” it answered, the words in Miko’s accent but with the snake’s overconfidence, chilling Rodney. Then Valac blinked and tilted its head, eyes narrowing in a way that Miko’s never did. “You are quite emotional.” 

“Of course I am!” Rodney heard the squeak in his voice, but he couldn’t stop. “You’re planning to slide down my throat and rip into my brain!” 

Valac gave him an assessing look. “You should not be capable of such strong feelings.” 

_Oh, no,_ Rodney thought, tensing against the straps as fear made his throat close. No, he should not be so emotional if the meditor in the medical bay was working. And he had felt it working as he sat at the computer to download Goa’uld medical data – that calm, the lack of worry. Excitement replaced fear. What had changed? 

A ceiling tile dropped with a loud clatter and Radek’s voice said, “I suppose that is my cue.” 

Valac looked up. “What are _you_ doing here!” 

“Miko, of course,” Radek said. “Perhaps I am just in time.” 

Valac’s face twitched with annoyance and impatience. “Why are you here?” it said again, in Miko’s voice. “What is that device?” 

“Oh,” Rodney heard Radek say. It was a familiar version of _Oh_, and meant Radek had put the pieces together and figured something out. Rodney wondered what device Valac was talking about. How long ago had he sent that file to Radek? How long had he been unconscious? 

Valac stalked past Rodney toward Radek, beyond where Rodney could see. “What is happening, Dr. Zelenka?” 

“Er,” Radek started, and Rodney could hear a trace of uncertainty. “Why is Rodney in the infirmary? I, uh, I thought he was still on Meropis.” 

“He is not well. Did you know he has put devices all over the city?” 

“I did not!” Rodney shouted. Oh, the injustice of being accused of what the Goa’uld had done! “Those things are Ancient and that, that _thing_ in Miko made them stronger! It's a Goa'uld!” He pulled frantically against the straps again. 

“He accuses me of what he has done,” Valac said in Miko’s voice. “He is not himself.” 

“That he is not himself, I might agree,” Radek answered. “But he sent me a puzzle, and I have solved it. Besides, I witnessed your conversation. I suspect you are responsible for the devices I have found and altered.” 

“Altered?” The Goa’uld echo in that one word sent ice down Rodney’s spine that warred with a flicker of hope. Had Radek done something that had cleared the fog in Rodney’s brain? In Miko’s voice Valac asked, “How did you alter them?” 

“Ah. That was very interesting!” Rodney could hear Radek falling into excited explanation, as if he didn’t hear the echo of the Goa’uld's speech. “At first, I simply wanted to make the wave forms dance—”

“Explain later!” Rodney yelled, then he flinched at the sounds of a crash and a choking noise, of feet scrabbling against the floor. 

“I do not want to waste your talents,” Valac said, his Goa’uld voice reverberating and almost drowning out the sound of Radek choking, “but if you modified the meditors, you are dangerous.” 

Rodney pulled hard at his straps again, knowing it was fruitless but needing to move as fear and anger filled him. The sound of Radek’s fighting weakened, and Rodney hated that he could imagine it all, that he had fucking _prior experience_ with having people choked in front of him. 

Out of the corner of his eye something white and blue moved past him, and Machina’s voice said, “That is enough of that.” 

Rodney heard Radek hit the floor, the gasp of his indrawn breath, and a scream in Miko's voice. 

Rodney started as Jackson appeared near his feet, eyes wide to see Rodney tied down. He dropped his shoulder bag and started undoing Rodney’s straps. "Sorry we’re late.”

Behind him the Goa'uld was yelling threats, and Rodney sat up as soon as he was free, anxiety and anger making him need to move. He heard Jackson take a snorting breath. Machina held Miko's body by the arms, the feet kicking the air, several inches above the floor where Radek sat. He was leaning against the wall, one hand at his throat and the other clutching a cobbled-together device to his chest.

Rodney jumped down from the gurney to crouch next to Radek. "What did you make?" he asked, pointing at the box, which had thick, short antennas like a re-purposed wireless router.

"I'm fine, Rodney, and thank you for asking," Radek said, sarcastic and a little biting. 

"Yes, yes, very glad you weren't strangled by the snake," Rodney said, impatient and grabbing at the device. "What is it?"

"Ah," he said, the bite replaced with enthusiasm. "You sent me that file from Carson's email, and the waveforms that it indicated were quite fascinating. Then I guessed that you had sent me more than a puzzle, so I made a detector. And then I realized –"

"I get it," Rodney interrupted, impatience skittering under his skin. "Skip to the part where you made that box?" 

"Well they were very complicated," Radek said, excited, "and I wanted to play with constructive and destructive interference. So--"

Rodney cut him off again. "Make the waveforms dance," Rodney said, repeating what Radek said to Valac, realization washing over him. He'd only thought of a helmet to block the signal. Radek had made a counter-agent. He'd done it while under the influence of a meditor. Rodney felt the heat of shame in his cheeks, his mouth going tight. He was never going to be able to look in the mirror again, but there were more important things now than his great big bruised ego. "Can we make more of these and put them around the city?"

"I have already altered many of the original machines," Radek said. "At least five. Of course I can do that."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you anyone still reading. Mific turned this around 40,000 times faster than I wrote it. When last we met, Zelenka dropped in to stop Valac from taking over Rodney, beating Daniel and Machina in their rescue attempt.

Daniel’s breath caught as he looked at Machina, who stood holding Dr. Kusanagi’s body off the floor, gripping tight on the upper arms. The Goa’uld kicked and snarled, eyes flashing gold, with typical Goa’uld threats and imprecations. Daniel’s emotions swirled like a physical vortex in his chest. He wanted the fucking robot to put her down; the grip had to be bruising her. At the same time he wanted nothing more than for Machina to slam the Goa’uld against the wall, to punish it for the meditors, for everything every Goa’uld had ever done. He took a step before he meant to, fists balling in a rising rage, the surge of adrenaline feeling like a jolt from his spine to all his limbs.

Machina’s voice caught him up, the normally smooth tones coming out in short bursts. “I may not— Harm—”

The Goa’uld stopped struggling. “That’s right. The Laws of Robotics. You must put me down. This is the body of a human being, and you may not harm it.”

McKay stood up from where he'd been crouched near Dr. Zelenka, thunder in his face as he cut off any further words from the Goa’uld. “Machina! Put her down on the gurney and strap her down!”

The Goa’uld started to kick and yell again, but Machina just held Kusanagi’s body out further and twisted its arms to swing the body onto the gurney. Daniel dodged a kick, and let some of his leashed anger out to grab the ankles and slam the legs down. “Can someone strap this down?” he growled, pressing down harder than he needed to. He wanted to use his grip on the ankles to swing, to hurl the body against the wall, hitting right where the fucking snake must be. 

Zelenka appeared beside him, eyebrows down and his mouth in a hard line as he fastened the buckles, tightening them down so that the pressure deformed the cushion of the gurney around the legs. Part of Daniel knew it was too tight but the other shared the grim satisfaction on Zelenka’s face. Anger pooled in him, wanting expression in retaliation at the thing that had robbed him of his mind.

He heard a wordless growl and glanced up to see McKay at the head of the gurney, looking at Kusanagi’s face, his shoulders up, nearly vibrating. He brought his fists up over his head, Zelenka’s device in his hands. As he started to bring it down, clearly intending to smash it on Kusanagi’s head, Zelenka leapt forward and caught McKay’s arms, yelling, “Don’t break my box!” Momentum carried them both backwards, where something tripped them and they crashed to the floor.

Daniel ran around the gurney, shoving past Machina and grabbing Zelenka to pull him off McKay, his adrenaline finally given an outlet. “What are you doing?”

“He was going to break my machine!” Zelenka spat, whirling to shove Daniel away.

Daniel had never seen him so angry, Zelenka’s normal expression twisted up into something Daniel realized was echoed in his own tension. He held on tighter to Zelenka’s arm, satisfied that he was larger and had the mass to hold him, and glanced over to where McKay was levering himself off the floor, his matching expression of rage worsened by a swelling eye. He still had Zelenka’s device in one hand and Zelenka twisted in Daniel’s grip, trying to get at it, while McKay held it up out of reach like a schoolboy taunt. “What the hell is that thing?” Daniel growled.

“It puts out an interfering wave, canceling out the one all over the city,” Zelenka said as if he were speaking to an idiot. “I have already explained. Give it back.”

“Turn it off,” Daniel said, realization about why they were all violently enraged running through him like cold water. It didn’t wash away the anger. “Turn it off now!”

“No!” McKay snarled. "I will not be zombified again!"

Daniel rushed both of them, using his height and strength to yank the box away from McKay, turning away from him and hunching over the device, looking for an off switch. Zelenka grabbed at his arm, but Daniel elbowed him off. “How do I _stop_ this?” He didn’t wait for an answer, frustration and anger making his hands tremble, but he eventually found a button and pressed it hard.

His head felt as though it had been rung like a bell, not pain, but a sense of vibration. He heard gasps behind him, Zelenka and McKay's wordless reaction.

Small hands grabbed at the box. “Give me that!” the Goa’uld's voice echoed. It must have unstrapped itself. Daniel twisted away, suddenly exhausted, kicking out without much force to shove the Goa’uld away. Zelenka and McKay sat with their hands on their knees looking stunned. A weight landed on Daniel’s back, a chokehold around his neck, a flash of gold in his peripheral vision.

“I cannot, through inaction–” Machina said, and Daniel felt it pry Kusanagi’s body off him without finishing reciting the law.

-0-

The lights were off, and the sun coming through the window left a stark line of light bisecting Jack’s desk at an angle. Sgt. Cho’s voice pulled him out of what he would never admit was a worried sulk. “Sir, you have a call from the Mountain. General Landry–”

He didn’t exactly lunge at the phone, but it was a near thing. “O’Neill.”

Landry’s voice lacked his usual drawl. “Jack, Atlantis is in an uproar.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Colonel Stillwater dialed in and ranted at me non-stop for five minutes before shutting down the gate.”

Jack thumped back in his chair. “Ranted? About what?”

“Something about being lied to about the command, that everyone there was crazy, and why was there a robot in the infirmary.” Landry paused for a moment, and when Jack didn’t say anything, he continued, “You think the robot is that thing from Meropis? Is that what’s going on here? Meropis infiltrating Atlantis?”

Landry was never stupid, and the leap wasn’t hard. “If anything, I would guess they’re trying to fix it. Hank,” he said, letting the name sit in the air for a second to make sure he had Landry's attention, “I think there’s a Goa’uld on Atlantis.”

“Again?” Landry said, his voice dropping to an even quiet that Jack knew meant more anger than any shouting Landry might do. “And you’re just telling me this now because…?”

Jack shrugged, even though Landry couldn’t see it. “There wasn’t anything to do about it.”

“I could have warned them.”

“Hank, nothing about Atlantis has been normal for months. What would they have done with that knowledge? We didn’t know where the snake was hiding or how long it’d been there. And what do you think Carter’s been doing during dial ups? Their computer systems have a Goa’uld virus.”

There was a very long pause. “General O’Neill,” Landry said, and Jack knew that things were inevitably heading south when colleagues started pulling out titles. “How much of this were you ever going to tell me?”

Jack considered his options. This was a turf issue as much as anything. How much of the truth could he tell? “We sent Jackson through for two reasons,” he said, then paused.

“I figured it was to open a back channel between Earth and Meropis.”

Again, Landry wasn’t stupid. “And there was a second reason. I didn’t like the reports coming out of Atlantis.”

“Things were quiet.” Jack couldn't quite read Landry's tone.

“And that alone should have been a warning bell, Hank. It’s like when you notice your kids have gotten quiet. They’re up to something.”

Landry’s voice went tight, up a note in pitch. “Are you trying to say Atlantis is going to defect?”

“Sorry, Hank, bad analogy.” Jack needed to steer things back on course. “You called about Stillwater ranting.”

“Let’s just say it was the opposite of quiet, and most of it didn’t make sense.”

Jack leaned back. So why had Landry called him? “And you didn’t just send a team through because…?”

“Because some of the rant was specifically about you. Colonel Stillwater has some sort of bee in his bonnet about you sending him there, paranoia about Woolsey, and basically that people are out to get him.” Landry didn’t exactly sigh, but it was close. “I was worried any team I sent through would splatter on the shield or get shot on sight.”

Jack considered. “Let me write a message and you can send it through and see if it helps.”

Landry's voice sharpened. “Only if I get to read it first. Jack, you owe me information about my own damn command.”

"Fair enough," Jack said. 

"Of course I knew something was wrong," Landry said. "I was already on it. And it wasn't like anyone could miss your visit a few weeks back. I sent two people in last month, and they never reported back." 

"And you were going to tell me when?" 

"It's like you said. No news is good news except when it isn't." Landry cleared his throat, or growled, Jack wasn't sure what the noise was. "Can we stop trying to solve the same problem and maybe work together?"

Jack leaned on his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. Before he could answer, Landry continued, "Permission to speak freely?"

That startled Jack into sitting up. He outranked Hank, but they'd rarely stood on ceremony. "Go ahead."

"You cannot _Batshit Jack_ everything. You cannot _four man team_ everything. You've got everyone but Teal'c in on this, whatever this is. Read. Me. In."

Jack took a breath. "Carter's just working on the Goa'uld virus in Atlantis's systems. I thought she told you about that." The silence from Hank meant he wasn't buying it. "Fine. Here's what I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's really the theme running through this story--people trying to solve the same problems in parallel.


	25. Chapter 25

Cam leaned back from his workstation in Engineering on the Elizabeth Weir. Brop and Lindsey were having an argument that consisted of her talking and him scowling, literally putting his hand between Lindsey’s tool and the installation she wanted to make. “What’s the problem, boys and girls?”

“This data box,” Lindsey said, straightening up. “He won’t let me install it.”

Cam rolled closer. “What’s it do?”

Lindsey took a breath, and her answer came out almost as one word. “The purpose is to log the specifics of each dematerialization as part of calibrating quantum signatures over time. The rematerialization rebuild after transport requires resonance signatures and entanglement measures—“

Cam interrupted. “Slower for those of us on the short bus.”

“It’s like a black box on an airplane, kind of.”

Cam was about to signal to Brop to let her install it when Lindsey hiccupped. Cam glanced back over to her. She held the stiff fingers of her hand over her mouth and looked mortally embarrassed. She hiccupped again. He stared at her and let three more of her spasms pass before he said, “Aw, Lindsey, did you have to go and do that?” He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked down at the floor. John had been right. Caldwell had agreed too quickly to give them the transporter technology. “What is it? Really?”

She hiccupped, so he stared at her some more. Cam sensed movement behind him and glanced up to see Brop, his arms folded, eyebrows down. “Nov’k?” he grunted.

“I can’t—hic—tell you.” She flushed. “I’m sor—hic—ry, Cam, Brop, really I am.”

Cam held out his hand. She put the box in it and Cam handed it up to Brop without looking. “What else aren’t you telling me?” Her next hiccup shook her whole body, followed by another just as hard. Cam figured they had to hurt, and he wanted not to feel bad about it. Damnit, he _liked_ Lindsey! He leaned back in his chair. “I know you’re not going to spill secrets, but this isn’t gonna work.” He keyed his radio. “Security to Engineering.”

“Ca—“ she started, then hiccupped loudly. She snapped her mouth shut and took a chair, waiting quietly as her body periodically spasmed.

“Will the transporter work without that thing?” Cam asked Brop, but glancing at Lindsey.

“Think so,” Brop said. Cam raised his eyebrows at Lindsey and she nodded.

Cam heard the clattering footsteps of two of the Meropan guards coming down the ramp from the level above. “Sir?” one of them asked.

“Can you escort our guest out of here?”

“Where to, sir?”

Damnit, Cam really didn’t want to make this official, which a holding cell would do. “See if you can find an empty crew berth, a single, and lock her in it.”

“Cam!” Lindsey protested.

He looked at her. Her fingers covered her mouth again, a barrier against the hiccup that he could see shake her body. Cam let his sadness and resignation into his voice. “You can’t imagine this was gonna turn out some other way?”

-0-

Rodney slumped back in his chair as much as he could and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was handcuffed with zip ties, along with Radek and Jackson. Jackson sat forward with his elbows on his knees, toes tapping with nervous energy. Radek sat upright, playing with the ends of the ties, bending them under with his thumbs, expressions flitting across his face, a muscle in his jaw jumping in a silent counterpoint to Jackson’s toes. Loud voices in the hallway wouldn’t resolve into words, but Rodney could hear the anger and confusion.

“It’s quite the rebound effect,” Jackson said, his voice calmer than his body language indicated.

Radek’s answer came from between clenched teeth. “If they would let us go, I could fix this.”

“Yeah,” Jackson said, sitting up. “I’m done here. Ready to leave?”

“What are you talking about?” Rodney bit out.

Jackson rose and walked to kneel down in front of Radek. “Let me get you out of those.”

“You have side cutters in your pocket?” Radek said derisively.

“No, I have a bobby pin.” Jackson grinned, and it almost looked feral. “Let’s piss them off by not being here when they get back.”

“How’s a hair pin going to help us?”

“Some mechanical genius,” Jackson said, a bit of scorn in his voice. He fished awkwardly in a pocket and brought out a dark bobby pin. “They always overlook this. Let me at it.” Radek held out his hands and Jackson opened the bobby pin, then poked into the zip tie closure. “Pull your hands apart.”

The length of the tie moved backwards under the pressure of Radek wrists as Jackson held down the tongue with the pin. “I guess we’ve had more jail breaks than you,” Jackson said. “Learned from Jack never to leave home without it.”

Radek shook out his hands, letting the plastic drop to the floor. “Let me,” he said, reaching out for the bobby pin and starting to work on Jackson’s ties. “Ah, I see. Very clever.”

Rodney pulled up his hands and tried to look into the mechanism that made the ties one-way. A simple ratchet, and you could, of course, bend down the tongue. He felt like an idiot. Jackson moved to the door, and Radek looked to the ceiling. “Any vents here?” he murmured.

Oh, that was too much. “What about me?” Rodney said, holding up his bound hands. “Any time now would be good!”

“Yes, yes,” Radek said, walking over to him and making short work of loosening the ties.

“Now what?" Rodney asked. "We can’t just walk out of here.”

“Dr. Zelenka,” Jackson said, his voice demanding and irritated. Rodney felt the same way—they all did, rebounding from the meditors. “What exactly did you do?”

“The wave-form devices?” Radek turned, and Rodney recognized the grumpy excitement that was uniquely Zelenka. “The hand-held one those goons took from me was also a tracker. I had put a counter-device near where the signal was strongest: in the mess hall, near the military barracks. I was about to put one in the infirmary when I saw you with Dr. Kusanagi.” Radek crossed his arms. “Oh, and you’re welcome for rescuing you from becoming a Goa’uld.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes, yes, thank you,” Rodney said impatiently.

“Before we go, we need to do a couple of things,” Jackson said. “First, emotions check. We were all a bit crazy in the infirmary when Zelenka first countered the meditor field.”

“Yeah, I don’t get that,” Rodney said, the shape of a new puzzle opening in his head. “When I went to Meropis to get away from the meditor signal, it took weeks for it to wear off, and it was slow.” He snapped his fingers, trying to force lines of thought together, frustrated by the missing pieces. “And my helmet just blocked it, but it was also creating destructive interference.”

“Like noise-canceling headphones?” Jackson asked.

“Right! Maybe Radek’s device does something more or different.” Rodney turned to Radek, finger pointing. “I _blocked_ the meditor. You built an _anti_-meditor!”

Radek paled. “In my defense, I was not in my right mind.”

“We may still not be, all of us,” Jackson said. “How many of them did you build?”

“Twelve,” Radek said. Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes. They had to find _twelve_ anti-meditors. Radek added defensively, “It seemed like a symmetrical choice given the fundamental frequency.”

Before Rodney could answer, Jackson said through clenched teeth, “And you put them in key areas. So now we have the lotus eaters turning into berserkers.”

“It’s not that bad!” Radek protested angrily.

“How could you be so _stupid_?” Rodney yelled. “It’s human experimentation!”

Radek stepped in close, his voice starting low and then rising. “You sent me a puzzle without context, Rodney! I just wanted to solve the pretty little _problem_ you sent!”

Jackson stepped between them. “Take a breath,” he said, putting his hands on their chests to separate them and demonstrating a deep inhalation. ”I think we have the answer to the question of whether we're emotionally compromised, because right now I want to strangle both of you.”

Rodney stepped away from the pressure on his chest, swallowing down his desire to punch both Radek and Jackson. He could hear something similar in Radek’s voice. “Fine. Part one was an emotion check. Done. What is part two, Dr. Jackson.”

“We get out of here, go find your devices, and shut them down.”

“Yes, yes, preferably without the jacked-up military putting us right back here.” A thought struck Rodney. “How could I be so _stupid_!”

“Easily,” Radek said sarcastically.

“No, no, it’s those mind machines dumbing me down. I forgot that the Charin is in orbit!”

“Charin?” Radek asked. “She was Teyla’s—“

“Yes, and the Meropans named a ship after her.”

“Meropis has ships and we don't?" Radek sat down heavily, throwing his hands in the air. 

"Don't be so dramatic," Rodney sneered.

“Oh!” Jackson blurted, startling both Rodney and Radek.

What now?” Rodney growled.

“I forgot, too.” Jackson shrugged sheepishly.

“And there’s a cloaked jumper parked where we can get at it," Rodney continued. "Maybe two.”

“_Two_?” Radek looked startled.

“Machina came down after me. I didn’t know it was here at first,” Rodney said. Another thought hit him. “Aaaarrrgh!” He growled. “I _hate_ my brain not working. How could I have forgotten?" 

"What are you babbling about now?" Radek asked sourly.

"Machina!" Rodney stared at Jackson and Radek. "What did they do with Machina?”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to mific for her beta reading. It is all much better thanks to them!

Cam’s radio clicked. “How’s it going?” John asked. He was patched in through the Elizabeth Weir’s comm system, so the channel wasn’t private. 

Cam sat back, leaning on the cushioned back of his McKay 2000 chair. He glanced over at Brop, who had recruited another Traveler to go over the installation of the Asgard transporters, checking if there was anything else Lindsey might have put in. “Okay, I guess. We could use McKay’s eyes on this.” 

“Still no word,” John said. “Him, Jackson, or Machina.”

“Shoot,” Cam sighed. He hadn’t expected otherwise, but he was still worried about them. “When’s the Daedalus due back?” 

“Later today.” 

“And then we go to Atlantis,” Cam said. John said nothing, so Cam continued. “On our own boat.” 

“Yep,” John said, doubtless mindful of who might be listening in. 

Neither one of them were going to trust themselves on an SGC ship, not after Caldwell and Novak had broken trust with the black box, but they didn’t want to spread that news widely. He heard John huff out something between a sigh and a growl, frustrated. “Let Teyla handle it,” Cam said. “I can see it now. _Bad colonel. No cake_,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. He got a snort in response, which he counted as a win, and anyone listening would probably know something had gone south with Caldwell. “Anything else, or are you just checking in?” 

John didn’t answer for a moment. “When are you coming back?” he finally asked. 

Cam tried to stop the smile spreading over his face. “You miss me?” 

There was another pause. “Not used to you not being here.” 

Warmth spread through Cam’s chest. “Absence making the heart and all that?” John made a noise of agreement and annoyance, which made Cam want to laugh. His husband was so bad with emotions. “Now you know how I feel when you’re off without me,” Cam said, keeping his voice light. 

“How much longer do they need you?” 

He hadn’t been lying to Lindsey about the computer interface, but that work was mostly done and couldn’t be debugged until they started trials. “I’m about at the point where I can leave this for Brop.” 

“I’ll be up in a jumper within two hours,” John said. “Sheppard out.” 

This time Cam let himself smile and enjoy the feeling. No one else would have heard it the way Cam did. He could have waited for a regular shuttle, but John's _I'll come get you in a jumper_ was his way of saying he needed the two of them back together. Cam took a breath, cleared the smile off his face, and let Brop know he’d be going back to the planet shortly. Brop waved without looking up, and Cam turned back to his console to wrap up his work there. 

-0- 

Daniel tried to curb his impatience. They were in an abandoned lab that McKay called his 'secret lair'. He'd apparently set it up when he snuck onto Atlantis in a cloaked puddlejumper.

McKay looked up from the consoles. “Found Machina,” he said, sounding like he was biting off the words as carefully as possible so he wouldn’t start yelling. 

Zelenka snorted. “That doesn’t sound good,” he said, and then, pouring on the sarcasm, “Can we avoid your coy _I know more than you_ posturing and can you just _tell_ us what’s going on?” 

Daniel crossed his arms and held himself tightly, pulling in all the emotions running through him. They weren’t close to any of Radek’s devices, but he still felt off balance. McKay and Zelenka were overreacting, too. “I think the anti-meditors need to be the priority here.” 

McKay visibly deflated, anger giving way to sadness, an expression Daniel wasn’t used to seeing on him. “Yeah, Machina’s not going anywhere.” 

“What do you mean?” Daniel asked. 

“Stillwater had it disassembled and put in a box! I can’t believe that troglodyte!” McKay started working himself back up. “If he damaged—“ 

“In a box is good, McKay,” Daniel said, trying to impose a calm he could barely access himself. “In a box means they’re not taking it apart in the labs.” 

“What of Miko?” Radek asked, sounding nervous. “Have they taken her apart, too?” 

McKay visibly swallowed and turned to check his computers. “She’s still alive and in the infirmary, but I can’t get into those systems.” 

Zelenka nudged McKay aside. “Fine. My turn.” He brought up a display. “My machines are here,” he said, pointing at several places on the screen. 

McKay looked over Radek’s shoulder for a moment and then shoved him out of the way. “The rest of us aren’t tiny little Czechs who can fit in air ducts!” McKay said, pointing where Radek had indicated. “You’re the only one who can get to all of them.” 

“Maybe not,” Daniel said. “We’re forgetting something.” He pointed up. 

“The Charin, of course. Maybe they have midgets on the crew," McKay said sarcastically. He straightened up. “Oh. Maybe they do. I mean, they have teenage apprentices.” 

“Let’s get to that jumper and get up there,” Daniel said. “We need help.” 

"And I do not wish to be recaptured," Zelenka said. "It is most unpleasant."

"Eh," Daniel said. "It gets routine after a while." He laughed at Zelenka's expression, more than the joke was worth. "Here, have one of your own." He dug out another hidden hairpin and slapped it into Zelenka's hand.

-0- 

Machina ran the 2,149,335th scenario for how it might have chosen differently, and the output fell into the same category. If it stayed in Atlantis, each scenario had ended with it either destroyed by violence, disassembled completely for research, or its current situation, piled in pieces in a dark box. If it retreated in the puddle jumper, harm befell Dr. Daniel Jackson and the great Dr. Rodney McKay. If it took Dr. Daniel Jackson and the great Dr. Rodney McKay to the Charin in the puddle jumper, the creature known as a Goa’uld continued to cause harm to the humans of Atlantis. The box seemed like the least bad outcome. 

They had removed its headpiece but Machina had more optical sensors than the limited two at the front that humans had. It had experimented with navigating the world with only such input, but found it insufficient. Optical sensors on its shoulder girdle and circling the joint between leg and foot allowed it to navigate more effectively, and even disassembled, it could maintain wireless connections between its central processor and peripheral sensors. 

None of those inputs were useful now. Lacking data and having exhausted the retrospective analysis, it started scenario 1 for likely future actions. It was interrupted at scenario 339 by an auditory input, muffled through the box, but it applied a sharpening algorithm and could make out the words. 

“That fucking thing was from Meropis!” There was a thump on the box, enough to activate Machina’s inertial sensors. “Why would it strap down one of our scientists?” 

Machina had no match in its memory for the voice, or the one that answered impatiently, “It was Dr. Kusanagi." 

"Watch your tone with me, Woolsey! McKay handles the geeks. I don't need to learn their names."

Machina did not agree with that statement, although it had observed the great Dr. Rodney McKay act as if he did not know people's names. He clearly did, but used misnaming as a human dominance display. They had to prove themselves for him to name them correctly in conversation. Machina did not think the person speaking now had a similar approach. He seemed dismissive. Machina wished it had access to its database on Meropis of human interaction styles. It would be able to add this display of uncaring, and to search for information on how best to interact.

The other voice, _Woolsey, Richard P, civilian administrator of Atlantis_, answered evenly, "The robot did say that Dr. Kusanagi was host to a Goa’uld.” 

_Stillwater, Harold, Colonel. Military leader of Atlantis_ made a dismissive noise. "And why didn’t that thing—” Machina felt a thump again, low on the box, indicating a probable kick— “resist when our scientists disassembled it?” 

“I don’t know, Colonel Stillwater, but you’ve got to admit something is going on with the personnel on Atlantis.” 

“We’re all on edge!" Colonel Harold Stillwater said "You should be, too, Woolsey. Spies! Spies from that damned Meropis city and from our own SGC.” 

"We have no evidence Dr. Jackson—"

"I’ve got a task force forming. We're gating to the Mu site and from there to Meropis. We’ll get that damn traitor Sheppard for desertion, for subverting McKay, and for espionage! And we’ll take down that Emmagan woman and annex the fucking city.” 

“Might I remind you,” Mr. Richard Woolsey said, each word distinctly clipped, “That the law does not permit this action, Colonel, and I will not authorize it!” 

“I don’t need your damn authorization, Woolsey. This is a military situation and—“ 

“In no way have we determined that. Has anyone tested Dr. Kusanagi to see if the robot's claims were true? Has the science team reported back on that device Dr. Zelenka was holding?” The sound pressure level of Mr. Richard Woolsey’s voice had risen throughout the conversation. 

“We _know_ those damned Meropans are behind this!” Colonel Harold Stillwater answered at a 10% higher sound pressure than Mr. Richard Woolsey. 

Mr. Richard Woolsey’s answer came at a sound pressure near the peak of possible human vocal production. “WE DO NOT!” 

Machina processed a thump and some scuffling noises, then no audio for 1.67 seconds, then a muffled sound of footsteps and an opening door. Machina had to enhance the low voice twice before he made out the words, “Corporal. Take Mr. Woolsey to detention for aiding and abetting the enemies of Atlantis. Throw him in with the spies.” 

“Sir, I was just coming to tell you. They’ve escaped.” 

Machina had included that possibility in 338 of the 339 completed scenarios because the combination of Dr. Daniel Jackson, Dr. Rodney McKay and Dr. Radek Zelenka created a high probability of escape based on their individual intellects alone. The known physical training of Dr. Daniel Jackson and the references others had made to his past escapes had been incorporated in Machina’s calculations. 

"Find them!" Colonel Harold Stillwater yelled. 

"Should I have Mr. Woolsey taken to the infirmary? He's unconscious."

"Leave him. I'll just lock him in here and join the search."

Machina prepared to restart scenarios with decision trees on whether the three scientists would first address the meditors and anti-meditors or return to the Charin for aid. It would have to run versions of how those choices would be affected if Mr. Richard Woolsey was dead, incapacitated but not dead, conscious but unhelpful, or conscious but helpful. Machina wanted to be prepared for any possibility.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many thanks to mific for her quick and so-helpful, "fixed-it" betas.

Valac sat quietly, pretending to be Miko Kusanagi and pretending to be confused that Colonel Stillwater had placed her under guard. Whatever that Zelenka man had done with his anti-meditor device, all Valac’s plans needed to be re-thought. The only leverage he might have now was the virus he'd put in Atlantis’s systems. He could hear that the sick bay was busy, people coming in with injuries and raised voices, far more emotional than anyone on Atlantis should be, countered by soothing tones from the medical staff. The meditor here seemed to be working, but something was happening in the rest of Atlantis. 

Valac looked at the guard, noting his red hair and straight back. He had been very agitated when he arrived, part of a group who had taken away McKay, Jackson, and Zelenka. They had ordered the robot to let go of Kusanagi’s body and hauled it away. The other three had been taken at gunpoint, McKay and Jackson insisting loudly that Kusanagi was a Goa’uld, that she should be scanned. It was lucky for Valac that whatever was happening elsewhere in the city had caused enough injuries the medical staff were too busy to confirm the accusation. But eventually that distraction would have to slow down. 

Two Marines had stayed behind to guard Valac, one inside the room and the other outside the door. Valac wanted out. He needed to escape before Dr. Beckett could show them the scans with, as he'd called it, Miko's _wee passenger_. He also needed to get to a computer to take the systems hostage, but there were two armed guards and all of the infirmary to get through. Valac growled with frustration. 

“Something wrong?” the guard said. 

Valac leaned back in the chair, looking at the ceiling, his eyes falling on the open square where the duct cover had fallen out. Of course. He could go out the way Zelenka had come in, as long as he could take care of the guard. But he didn’t want to go out blind. He sat up and composed his face. “What of the others? Where did you take them?” He tried to make the voice sound meek and harmless. 

“They said you’re a Goa’uld.” The guard hefted his weapon, but Valac noted his grip was not as tight as it had been. Perhaps the meditor in sick bay still functioned and was calming him down, slowing his reaction time. 

“Do I _look_ Goa’uld?” Valac said, tilting Miko's head and trying a shy smile. 

It didn’t seem like a total failure, and the guard shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anyone with a snake.” Valac gritted his teeth at the insulting word, but the guard didn’t notice. “I wasn’t here when Colonel Caldwell…” The guard trailed off and pointed vaguely at his head. “Seen videos of the glowy eyes thing. And the voice. The voice is creepy.” He gave a small chuckle. 

Valac did not let his irritation at the disrespect show. He had been Tok’ra and a spy. He had more capacity for self control than a mere Goa’uld. “What is funny?” 

“Marines aren’t supposed to be bothered by _creepy_.” The guard shrugged. “Can you do the glowy thing?” 

“Certainly not,” Valac lied. “I am simply Miko Kusanagi.” He felt a stirring from his host, and he tamped down her rage with little effort, but it gave him an idea. “I am a scientist,” he said. In a bid for more information about what was happening beyond the room he said, “I wish they would let me study the robot that attacked me. Have they taken it to the labs?” 

“Been hearing the chatter.” The guard pointed at his earpiece, as if to remind them both how he heard anything. “Robot’s been disassembled and the Colonel has it in a box in his office. The other three are in a security room.” 

The robot. If Valac could get at it, subvert its programming like he had Atlantis's, it would make a potent tool. A shout filtered through the door, followed by the sound of metal crashing, reminding Valac that the rest of Atlantis seemed to be reacting badly to Zelenka’s counter to the meditors. He had to change plans. Domination would have to wait. Escape and survival mattered most now. The robot would make survival much easier, eventual dominion more attainable. 

He needed the guard to turn away. That would be simple. “Please, Corporal. I would like to use the toilet,” Valac said in Miko’s voice. 

“Use a bed pan. You’re not going anywhere.” 

“All right,” Valac said. He had already identified his weapon. “But please keep your back turned.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” The guard shifted to face the door.

Valac glanced to see that the guard was staying in place, and then grabbed a pole on a wheeled, heavy stand. He swung it overhead, and the guard crumpled under the blow. 

Valac pulled the chair under the open vent that Zelenka had fallen from, and climbed up into the ducts. 

-0- 

Rodney finished the shut-down sequence and glanced out the puddle jumper's window at the Charin’s small landing bay. There were two other shuttles of Traveler design, and just enough room for a second puddle jumper if the space weren’t filled with people in uniforms. They didn’t look like the apprentice engineers he had asked to take back to Atlantis. He turned from the pilot’s seat and walked to the back of the crew compartment as Radek hit the door control. The back ramp of the puddle jumper opened, revealing Jinto in his uniform flanked by two people who were clearly security and two other large people in coveralls. “Welcome back, Dr. McKay. Welcome aboard, Dr. Jackson, Dr. Zelenka. Sounds like you woke a Hive down there, based on the radio signals.” 

“Something like that,” Rodney said. He felt calmer, the agitation having slowly drained from all of them as they flew up from Atlantis to where the Charin orbited, cloaked, above the city. 

“You said you needed apprentice engineers. I believe you specified _the tiniest ones we could find_?” Jinto raised an eyebrow. Where had he learned that, Rodney wondered. Where had he learned sarcasm? Sheppard, of course. Jinto cocked his head, waiting for an answer. Rodney rubbed at his temple. Between the meditors and Radek's creations, his brain felt like it had been the target in a particle accelerator.

At least he could be confident in one observation. “Those people are not _tiny_.” Rodney pointed at the men in coveralls and looked pointedly at Jinto, who looked amused rather than offended. Rodney blushed a bit, remembering how he had ranted over the radio to the ship about the need for the smallest engineers available, while Radek muttered at him in Czech. Jinto turned to Jackson. “Dr. Jackson, I have received instructions from Meropis to confine you.” 

“Me? Why?” Jackson looked surprised and clutched at his bag protectively. 

“Yes, why? He has been nothing but helpful,” Radek said. 

“You, too, Dr. Zelenka, I’m sorry to say.” Jinto motioned and the two guards stepped forward. “Everyone from the SGC. You will also be blindfolded so you see no more of the ship.” 

“Radek is from Atlantis!” Rodney said. “I mean, yes, suspicion on Dr. Spy over there, but even that—” He paused at Jinto’s raised eyebrow. “_I’m_ from Atlantis. What about me?”

“You have already seen the ship and need not be blindfolded. You are to go to medical for a check up and mental exam.” 

“My brain is—” Rodney started, then interrupted himself, because he actually had no idea how his brain was. “Fine. But what about the devices in the city? We need to shut them down.” 

“The, uh, tiny apprentices will not be needed. The Elizabeth Weir is on its way and can beam them out.” 

"You have _transporters_?" Rodney said. It was so unfair, how much Meropis people hadn't told him.

"The Charin does not, but the Weir does. And she's on her way." Jinto looked over at Radek and Jackson. “Put them in separate cells in the brig.” 

“There’s really no need for this,” Jackson began, but Radek put a hand on his arm. 

“I can imagine they have many reasons for caution,” Radek said. “Let us go quietly. If they have the capacity, transporting will be safer than exposing even _tiny_ engineers—” he spared a glare for Rodney, but it seemed more habit than heat “—to my devices or the remaining meditors. We have no idea what effect it would have on someone who has had no other exposure.” 

“Not to mention trigger-happy Marines,” Jackson said, nodding. 

“Thank you for understanding,” Jinto said. He turned to Rodney, who felt cold and hollow watching Jackson and Radek being led away. His strange emptiness must have shown on on his face, because Jinto’s voice was almost placating. “Let’s get you to the infirmary, Dr. McKay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick comment on the writing process: Because I'm writing and posting live, and I'm not an outliner, I sometimes don't know what will happen next. The part with Rodney on the Charin was written very shortly after the last update, then the scene transitioned to Miko/Valac, and Valac just sat there for days and days without me knowing what he would do. Then I realized timing-wise, the Valac scene needed to come first, and then, 700 words, poof. Which, of course, mific then made better.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two notes:  
1) had to retcon something in the previous chapter, so a small part of chapter 27 changed from the idea that the Daedalus is coming to the Elizabeth Weir coming with transporter technology.  
2) I think this chapter may be half mific. All hail the bodacious beta!

“No.” 

Cam admired how Teyla had positioned herself, looking out the windows, outlined by the light streaming in. She had her back to Caldwell, not even turning to acknowledge him when he came a few steps inside the council room and demanded the return of Lindsey Novak. Cam had rolled himself to the far side of the central table, where the chairs were all neatly pushed in, everything about the room as unwelcoming as it could be. Cam glanced over at John who had positioned himself between Caldwell and Teyla, slouching against the wall despite being in full uniform. 

Cam knew from his own experience that it was only military training that kept Caldwell from fidgeting, but the man’s fingers twitched occasionally as if he wanted to do something, anything, with his hands. Caldwell took a breath and tried again. “Dr. Novak is an integral member of my crew.” 

Teyla turned at that, fast enough to make her long coat swish softly as she glanced back over her shoulder, feet still planted, an eyebrow raised. “As, I’m sure, are you.” 

Cam barely squashed a surprised intake of breath. From Teyla, who had turned to look back out the window, that was a threat. He glanced again at John, leaning with his arms crossed, face toward Teyla but eyeing Caldwell, on guard between them. Caldwell shifted his stance, and Cam saw his mouth had tightened. Apparently he understood the threat. 

“Dr. Mitchell,” Teyla said. 

“Ma’am,” Cam answered, covering his mild surprise at being brought into the conversation and at the use of his title. 

Teyla turned to face Cam, stepping over to the table. She took a visible breath and placed her fingertips on the tabletop. Some of it was a show of control for Caldwell’s benefit. “Dr. Mitchell, can you tell me what happened on the Elizabeth Weir?” 

“Dr. Novak installed a black box that wasn’t necessary to the function of the transporter.” 

Caldwell started, “You can’t expect us to just give away technology without—” 

Teyla hushed him with a swift outstretched hand, not even glancing in his direction, her eyes still on Cam as she brought her hand down in a graceful contrast to how fast she had extended it. “I heard that there has been a successful test of the transporter?” 

Now Cam understood what was going on. “Yes, Liaison,” he said, sticking with the titles. “Engineer Brop tells me the tests with inanimate objects have succeeded.” 

“Not with living beings, then?” Cam shook his head, but before he could voice an answer, Teyla was turning away to Caldwell. “Hmm,” she said. 

Cam glanced at John, who had the barest upward curve at one side of his mouth. 

“Would you like to see the Elizabeth Weir, Colonel?” Teyla asked, turning her head to Caldwell, but keeping her fingertips on the table. “I’m sure our engineers would be happy to show you the ship after they transport you aboard.” 

Cam schooled his face at Caldwell’s reaction. The man froze, all his little twitches stilling. Teyla tilted her head slightly in question, still leaning slightly over the table, supported by her fingertips. “You’re not going to test it on me,” Caldwell finally said. “Using a human for the first living organism test is against protocol.” 

“And how are _we_—” Teyla started, straightening up, “—an independent city—”, she pulled out the chair at the head of the table, “—bound by your _protocols_?” She sat and folded her hands on the top of the table, looking at Caldwell, her face a mask of polite inquiry. 

Cam sat up straighter in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, modeling Teyla’s expression. He glanced over at John who met his look with both sides of his mouth turned up and smile crinkles around his eyes. They both loved watching Teyla kick diplomatic ass. 

-0- 

Valac paused at a junction of the ducts. He needed two things, a meditor and whatever device Zelenka had made. The potential combination of keeping a people calm and being able to turn on aggression at will? What a way to create an army. He imagined miniature versions of each, made part of clothing. Maybe a ceremonial necklace. If he could find a place with an Ancient laboratory and a Wraith-stunted civilization, with the power of the robot’s capabilities to interface with Ancient systems? That would be ideal. 

_There would be Wraith_, Miko managed to convey, with a grim undertone that sacrificing her body if the Wraith killed Valac would be worth it. 

Valac started to silence his host, but then paused. In that opening, Miko began to enumerate all the facts of Pegasus that his plan wasn’t taking into account, starting with how the Wraith destroyed any civilization that became too advanced. The host was right; what Valac planned needed resources, a city like Atlantis. Or Meropis. Was there anything else in the database to show where another dormant city might be? He could steal ZPMs. Miko had the knowledge he needed to make repairs. He must have that. But the Atlantis database had been deliberately corrupted, even before Valac had created the virus. 

He felt the flash of an idea from Miko before she could shut it down. The database on Meropis was not corrupt, and the robot was an excellent interface. Now all he needed was control of the robot and to get to a puddle jumper. A Tok’ra-trained spy with a host with the gene of the Ancients should be able to find a way. 

-0- 

Rodney felt the exit from hyperspace as a shiver through the Charin. It was different from the Daedalus, which always felt a bit like—not a physical jolt, but the same feeling of translation to another level, like stepping off a lecture podium onto the level floor. In the Charin it felt more like a slight shimmy, and Rodney really wanted to take a look at their engine specs. He might not have even noticed if he hadn’t been standing on the bridge, looking down on a red-swept planet. 

Before he could ask where they were he heard the command from the Charin’s captain—a dark, grizzled man, a Traveler, Rodney suspected. “Dial the gate.” A space gate then. They were radioing Atlantis, not trusting to the distance and open channels of subspace. 

“Connection established.” 

“Meropis, this is the Charin. We need to speak with Liaison Emmagan or Commander Sheppard.” 

Jinto’s voice said quietly, “You’re to report on events on Atlantis. Nothing more, nothing less. Everything she wants to know.” He stood just behind Rodney and to his right. Jinto had brought him to the bridge from the infirmary, ignoring all Rodney’s questions and demands as he led him through the ship, until finally he’d turned and said, “Enough, Dr. McKay, or I might be tempted to lock you in a room with a meditor.” Rodney didn’t know how the Charin could have a meditor, but he wasn’t going to take the chance. He hadn’t said a word since. 

The screen at the front brightened with a view of the Meropis command conference room, focused on Teyla at the head of the table. Caldwell sat next to her, his profile to the camera, shoulders back so hard that even Rodney could tell he was more uptight than usual. When had Caldwell arrived and why hadn’t he gone straight to Atlantis? While he considered the question, Sheppard stepped up to stand behind Teyla, and Mitchell rolled into view, turning his chair to face the camera, settling in on Teyla’s left, slightly in front of Sheppard. 

“Captain,” Teyla said formally, and then she smiled. “Rodney.” There was warmth in her voice and eyes. “It is good to see you. We have been worried.” 

Rodney had to clear his throat, covering the burst of emotion that Teyla _cared_ about him, which he knew but suddenly felt with a sense of gratitude. “With, ah, some reason, I’m afraid.” 

Sheppard's face went dark, eyebrows pulling in, but he said nothing. 

“How fares Atlantis?” Teyla asked. 

“Right now, not good, and it’s kind of Radek’s fault, except it isn’t, really, because he was under the influence and couldn't think through all the consequences.” The words tumbled out. “There were meditors everywhere and I sent Radek a puzzle and he used it to find the signal and then built a counter-agent, only it wasn’t a counter, but kind of an anti-meditor, and the military are all really jacked right now, like when we had Kirsan fever and they were on speed.” He took a breath. “Oh, and there’s a Goa’uld.” 

Mitchell nodded. “That last part we knew.” 

Rodney felt caught short. “You did?” He glimpsed a twitch from Caldwell. “Oh, right. News from the SGC.” 

Caldwell didn’t turn his head toward the camera when he answered, “General O’Neill figured it out from the notes Dr. Jackson sent back. There’s also a Goa’uld virus in the Atlantis computers.” 

“Yes. Virus, take two,” Rodney snapped before he could stop himself. "I haven't gotten into it, but Zelenka says it's worse than the one your snakey hitchhiker used." Even over the video link, Rodney could see Caldwell control a flinch. 

“McKay,” Sheppard said firmly, before Rodney could apologize or whatever it was he had opened his mouth to add. “Sitrep.” 

Rodney blinked, not sure where to start. “Um…” 

Teyla tilted her head. “You may speak in front of Colonel Caldwell.” Rodney blinked again and glanced at Caldwell. Why wouldn’t he? Before he could ask, Teyla said, “Please start from when you landed the cloaked puddle jumper on Atlantis.” 

“Oh, right!” Rodney said, and then he remembered there had been two puddle jumpers. “There’s still one there. Because that was sneaky sending Machina down after me, but we only had one pilot coming back because Machina is in a box.” He was suddenly hit with a wave of emotion about that, the image of his robot friend disassembled. It was like that episode with Data on Star Trek. He hoped someone would be able to put Machina back together before a hundred years had passed. 

“McKay!” Sheppard said again. “Focus!” 

It was so hard. Too many thoughts, too many _feelings_. He took a breath and started ticking off events on his fingers. “I landed on one of the disused piers, put my helmet on, and took my bags to set up an observation post in a small disused lab I knew about.” He kept going, trying to keep it all straight by counting on his fingers, but he found himself swaying on his feet and trailing off.

"Rodney," Teyla said.

"I'm sorry. I just—"

"When did you last eat?"

He thought for a moment. He honestly didn't know. 

"Lieutenant Hallingson, can you find Dr. McKay a chair and send for a meal?" Teyla asked. 

Rodney found Jinto's hand on his arm, gently leading him to a chair, that was being vacated by a technician. He sat, gazing at the console in front of him, but not knowing what any of it meant. Shortly someone was pressing the Meropan equivalent of a Power Bar into his hand. Within a few bites, Rodney felt a bit more like himself. He took another bite and spoke around the mouthful. "Where was I? Right, Daniel's room."

Teyla and Sheppard asked a few questions as he told the rest of the story around bites of the sandwich that appeared in his hand, vaguely trying to keep crumbs off the console, which he realized was environmental controls. He finished with their escape and flying the puddle jumper to the Charin. "And here we are, with Jackson and Radek in custody." Rodney swallowed, both sandwich and some emotion he didn't understand, and focused on the screen again. Caldwell looked grim. Teyla's face showed concern. Sheppard's eyebrows were down. But it was Mitchell who was clearly the most upset and was the first to speak.

"They took apart my _robot_?"


	29. Chapter 29

Valac positioned himself over Stillwater’s office, a corner of a crate just in view. It didn’t fit the decor of the office so it must contain the robot. The office was otherwise empty and all he had to do now was wait, his host’s small and capable fingers wrapped around the curves of a meditor he had placed here early on. He relaxed, waiting. 

After a few minutes he heard Miko. _This feels like ceramics. I enjoyed making those sculptures where you hid them._

Valac stilled the fingers. _That seems a very random thought._ He didn't remember letting Miko engage with making the sculptures. 

_It’s the first time you’ve let me sense much of anything since then,_ she said. _ _

Valac froze. In the waiting he had reverted, had unconsciously shared this body like a Tok’ra. _Don’t get used to it._

_I could potentially help you._

Valac could feel the thought was tentative. He snorted derisively and gave a mental poke to push Miko back towards her place as he mocked her. _What happened to never wanting to help me, to wanting to die? I recall you were very fierce._ Miko didn’t answer. _Perhaps you think you can fool me and that once the robot is reassembled, it will help you defeat me?_ Valac could feel the truth of that. Miko had moved from terror and anger to planning. It would be endearing if it weren’t inconvenient. 

_Tell me about your other hosts. When you were Tok’ra._

Valac slammed Miko down, fingers clenching on the meditor but holding the body still so as not to make a noise. He wanted to hurl the meditor against a wall, his fury and grief at the thought of Pirenn rising like a whirlwind at Miko’s question. Had she meant to do that to him? He wanted to use the body to punch something, but he was in the ducts so he just pushed her mind down harder. 

Now he had nothing to do but wait and the memory replayed of killing Pirenn when he had left her for that stupid engineer, for that stupid Trust scheme, for that stupid Tok’ra plan. What plan? Infiltration and reporting back. No action. Never action. Well, Valac wouldn’t make that mistake again; he would act as he saw fit. He had been patient before. He could be patient now. 

He turned the meditor all the way up, rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes, meditating as he waited for someone to come into Stillwater’s office below. The machine was ready to affect whoever walked through the door, and they would do as Miko asked. It was so simple. Control them with the meditor and have them carry the box with the robot to a puddle jumper. He could dial the gate and leave Atlantis, reassemble and reprogram the robot, and send it to Meropis to find another city where Valac could start again. He would not be as stupid as the System Lords with their egos or the Tok’ra with their caution. Valac’s people would love him, his benevolence, his technology. 

He didn’t know how long he waited, startled from his dream of empire by the sound of boots and voices. He looked through the grate. Stillwater was moving to sit at his desk, three Marines in front of him. Two had torn uniforms and all three looked disheveled. Valac couldn’t see their faces but as Stillwater sat in his desk chair, he could see his face, watch his expression move from thunderous anger to a vague dullness, the meditor doing its work. 

He pulled up the grate from the opening and said in Miko’s voice, “A little help here?” 

-0-

Cam rolled into the observation lounge of the Elizabeth Weir just as they dropped out of hyperspace, the blue-white light that had outlined John vanishing, leaving him gazing out on the black of a star field. He was wearing only his shirt, trousers and boots, the fancy uniform jacket Cam loved so much draped over a chair. The darkness turned the glass into a black mirror, the lights in the tiny room up just enough that John’s reflection was muted, dim shapes but no details. 

They had a few hours at sublight speed to reach beaming range of the planet where Atlantis floated. They would meet up with the Charin and collect Radek and Rodney. Rodney had given them the energy signatures from the devices, but Cam wanted them both on board the Elizabeth Weir to assist with its brand new transporters. They wanted to start beaming out both the meditors and Radek’s counter-devices as soon as they could, precisely and without damaging or targeting anything else. 

Cam rolled forward, next to John, the ship's door swishing closed behind him. He couldn’t make out the look on John’s face in the reflection, but he could see the tense slant of his shoulders under the white shirt. Cam ran the back of his hand down John’s thigh, not expecting a reaction. John had never been one to talk easily about feelings, but when Cam had first come to Atlantis, he had found John holding even more inside than he had when they trained together all those years ago at Maxwell, presenting so much less of the play of emotion that most people, even John once, gave away unthinking. Cam had always assumed it was because of Afghanistan and the stresses of Pegasus. He'd grown used to reading John's unspoken language, the stances and small, sometimes fleeting expressions resulting from the _Three laws of John Sheppard_, as he'd called them once. Since establishing Meropis, the rest of the galaxy thought Commander Sheppard was stone cold, that his only emotions were sarcasm or righteous anger, and both were feared and respected. But those close to him, and Cam especially, knew what lay under all of it, the depths of feeling John's masks were meant to hide. 

And right now, John had to be holding so many feelings. Atlantis was about to fall. No one had put it that way, but Cam could see what was happening play out like a well-known algorithm. Meropan guards had already taken over Site Mu and were ready to dial the gate and keep the Tau’ri on Atlantis from dialing out. Ronon was on a lower deck with twenty guards he had personally trained, ready to go in and secure the control room. And a squad of four of Meropis’s version of Special Ops were detailed to find Machina. All these plans had been made without ever once acknowledging what they were doing. 

“You’re quiet,” Cam said, only a little sarcastic, knocking on John’s thigh with his knuckles. This time John reached down and caught his hand, and Cam could feel the slight vibration in his fingers, a tension John didn’t want to show. “C’mon,” Cam said, “should be pretty straightforward.” 

“You saw how long it took McKay to get back to normal. Then we sent him in to get messed up again.” 

“I know. He was all over the place in that debrief,” Cam said, leaning his head into where they held hands, trying not to think about what McKay’s condition meant. What were they going to find on Atlantis? But he didn’t ask. He said what John needed to hear and what Cam truly believed. “We’re going to fix it.” John squeezed his hand briefly and let go. “This has totally got you where it hurts,” Cam said, focusing on his husband and not on their, what, former colleagues? They were more than that to John. “Second law of Sheppard: _Thou shalt not fuck with Sheppard's people on pain of death_. He's your people. And they’re all your people on Atlantis, still, aren’t they?” 

“God, Miko,” John said, sighing out the end of her name, the person on Atlantis most traumatized in all of this. He stepped away, and Cam turned his chair to see him step to the compartment's door. Cam heard the locking mechanism engage, then John came back and kneeled down in front of Cam's chair, looking him in the face for a moment, and then bending to rest his head in Cam’s lap. 

Cam didn’t react, not even a breath of surprise, but he locked his wheels and put one hand flat between John’s shoulders, the other carding through his hair. John showing this level of vulnerability in a semi-public place, even locking the door to indicate there was something to hide? This was serious. It took Cam a few moments to decide what to say. “This one’s really getting to you. They’re still your people,” he repeated, “but you can’t really be responsible for them.” John shook his head against Cam’s thighs, and Cam wasn’t sure if it was agreement or negation. “We can do this. We can fix this. We have to, because an Atlantis this fucked up is a threat to Pegasus.” 

John tensed but didn’t move for a moment, then he nodded against Cam’s thighs. Cam had said the thing no one else had yet spoken aloud. All the discussion had been about helping the people on Atlantis, almost like it was a favor to the SGC. But Teyla had refused to return Caldwell to the Daedalus and had forbidden the Daedalus to come with the Elizabeth Weir. Meropis wanted this mess contained before there was any more damage, and they needed to consolidate their relationships with the worlds that had been given meditors by handling the situation. By neutralizing the threat. By controlling it. The last thing Teyla was going to do was let the Daedalus loose in this galaxy. This was a Milky Way-bred problem but it needed a Pegasus solution, a Teyla Emmagen solution with John Sheppard as her hands. 

Cam carded his fingers through John’s hair again. “We can do this, love,” he said, the endearment new between them. John sat up and took Cam's face in his hands, searching his eyes before leaning in to kiss him. The kiss broke, and they touched foreheads. 

Cam let the stillness stretch a moment, then said, "We can absolutely take over Atlantis." John tensed and pulled away, but Cam grabbed his shoulders looking at his face, John's eyes turned to the view port. "We're about to, and you know it." He shook John gently until he looked back, his expression unguarded and sad. "This is not empire building. We're doing it out of love." 

"Weird version of that, don't you think?" John said, pulling away and rising to his feet. 

"Pegasus needs to feel safe. Safer," he corrected himself. "Not having more threats than the Wraith. And one of the allies they thought stood with them just fucked them up. Atlantis will never be trusted again." John's mouth tightened, but his eyes were soft with grief. "And they're in trouble from what McKay says. Their brains are so confused, they can't control themselves. We're helping them, too." 

"And they know Teyla and trust her," John said, nodding slightly. 

"They know you, too, Colonel," Cam said, deliberately using John's old rank to get the reaction he wanted—a smirk and a straightening of his shoulders. "You'll do this right. I know you will." 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, but it bears repeating, thanks to mific for being an awesome beta reader, suggester, and bouncer-offer of ideas.

“Dr. Jackson,” Teyla said, gesturing. “Please sit.”

Daniel took the chair, glancing around the compartment in the Elizabeth Weir. No ship compartment was particularly large, but this room was more spacious than most, clearly Teyla’s. _Liaison Emmagan’s_, he corrected himself. He cataloged the decorations, which seemed specific but not personal. They were designed to make the visitor know that this was _her_ space, but the pieces from the different Pegasus cultures spoke of connections and relationships. It was the receiving chamber of someone with power. It also looked newly assembled.

At the sound of a small hum of amusement, he focused back on Teyla where she sat opposite him in a chair no different from his own. Her gaze was friendly but assessing. Daniel felt a spike of shame at falling into his anthropological habits and not paying attention to the person who had, for want of a better word, summoned him. He took a breath, making sure his expression was bland and pleasant. “What can I do for you, Liaison?” he asked.

She tilted her head and looked at him for a long moment. “You were sent to Meropis as a spy.”

Daniel shifted in his chair, immediately uncomfortable. Jack’s voice in the back of his head was disappointed at the obvious tell, but his body had moved unconsciously with the draining of blood from his face. Daniel took a breath and tried to think, but he didn’t really have control of himself. He looked around the compartment again, trying to catalog the setting the Meropans had created for their Liaison, his eye resting on a Manaran wall hanging. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see the stylized education consoles in pictures that spoke of different cultures, different planets. There were also depictions of classrooms and workshops on Meropis, full of people clearly from different planets. The hanging was beautiful propaganda, reminding anyone from Pegasus what Meropis had brought them in a few short years.

And then the artifacts and decorations around the room snapped into focus as objects people had brought to Meropis as gifts. Tributes. And that made him think of Miko Kusanagi and the stupid snake in her head talking about tributes, and that thought made him angry.

He looked back at Teyla Emmagan, who simply waited, complete in her stillness, and he wanted to love her and everything represented on the tapestry behind her. He loved Jack, too, but he could feel it, feel the beauty of what she was trying to build. Growth, not defense, which was always Jack’s default. But the tributes in this room, even the hanging from the Manarans, gave him a pause. So he defaulted back to Jack’s teachings and told the truth, but not all of it. “Yes, I guess you could say I was sent to spy. On you and on Atlantis.” Denial would not be believed, and he felt lighter for having said it, which he had not expected.

She only straightened her head slightly, the serenity of her expression unchanged at his confession. “And now?”

He told part of the truth again. “I want to do what I do best. To study people and societies, to understand how you’re building what you’re building here.”

“And Atlantis? The SGC?” Her eyebrows rose slightly in question.

“I want them to be safe, of course.” Couldn’t she see that? Daniel wanted nothing but for everyone to be happy, productive, connected. Educated. He and Teyla were on the same page, even if he was still on a different page with Jack. He wished Jack were here to deal with Atlantis. He wished he could talk with him, even if only in code. Daniel started to think through the phrases they'd prepared that might convey the situation. It both was and wasn’t anchovy pizza. He snickered at the thought.

Teyla brought him back with raised eyebrows and a question. “What did General O’Neill wish to learn?”

“Your intentions,” Daniel said without thinking, not sure if he had decided not to censor himself or if he simply couldn’t. And that thought gave him a moment of panic. His brain wasn’t right. The Jack in his head warned that she had to know he was mentally off balance and was taking advantage. He folded his arms and looked away. “I’m done answering questions.”

“I see,” she said. “Are there any questions you have for me?”

Daniel hadn’t expected that. He had so many questions about why and how and what. What. “What are you going to do about the Tau’ri?” came out of his mouth. “The Daedalus and Atlantis,” he clarified. Jack would want to know this, if he ever got to talk to the Jack outside his own brain.

“We will protect the interests of this galaxy,” she said, and Daniel heard the note of finality.

“Will you let the Daedalus leave?”

“Of course.”

“And the mess on Atlantis? Will you let the SGC take care of it?” Take care of their own, Daniel thought. That’s what they were supposed to do.

“Atlantis has done much damage,” Teyla said.

“It wasn’t their fault! It was a Goa’uld!” Daniel wanted to defend them all, an image of flinging himself between Teyla and Woolsey flashing across his mind. He knew it was ridiculous, but she hadn’t seen the city under the influence of so many meditors.

“It was not the first time a Goa'uld on Atlantis has caused problems, Dr. Jackson.” Her voice was velvet over steel, her face holding a gentle challenge. “And the meditors were not the only thing Atlantis has done to the detriment of Pegasus.”

Daniel started to protest that waking the Wraith was an accident, but he made himself stop. If Colonel Sumner had listened to Teyla and stayed out of the wrecked city, what would have happened? What if they hadn't reactivated the Replicator's code? And what else had they done unknowingly, that from Atlantis’s perspective would seem benign. He knew there was damage in SG1's wake, but he had always balanced it in his mind with the good they had done. He glanced around at all the cultures represented in Liaison Emmagan’s chamber. They were not solely tributes as he had first thought, they were statements. He tried to take in the perspective of every planet represented by a carving, a painting, a wall hanging—artistry persisting in the face of the Wraith, hope despite all odds. Back at the SGC, they had absolutely no idea what Pegasus was, just blinkered colonialism, the arrogant manifest destiny viewpoint that saw Atlantis as a mission to Pegasus. But it was Meropis that offered hope. Atlantis had only shown that something new was possible.

“What do you need the Tau’ri to do?” he asked.

She rose without answering but her expression seemed satisfied, and Daniel rose, too, politeness on autopilot. “Dr. Mitchell will show you to the cabin you’ll be sharing with Dr. Zelenka. Do not leave it unaccompanied.”

So this would be better than when they were on the Charin, then. House arrest instead of a cell in the brig. Daniel didn’t blame her and part of him wanted to explain everything, share his realizations and support for what she was building in this galaxy, but Jack's voice in his head clamped him down. “At least it’s not anchovies,” he said aloud.

“Excuse me?” Teyla asked, pausing before opening the compartment’s door.

Daniel waved a hand. “Inside joke,” he said, gesturing at his head and wincing at the obscure pun. He wasn't right—usually he had more control. He realized he should be grateful she was letting him recover from the mess inside his head, the mess that still affected Atlantis.

-0-

Machina’s inertial sensors noted the movement of the box. It had heard the voices of Dr. Miko Kusanagi and of Colonel Lance Stillwater make arrangements to clear a path to the puddlejumper bay. By the sway of the box, Machina calculated there was a person at each corner, varying in stride length, creating a long periodicity in the sway of the box. Occasional sounds of fighting made their way to its auditory sensors, but where they walked, the shouts and sounds of conflict quickly died down. Machina's conclusion was that the Goa’uld in Dr. Miko Kusanagi carried a powerful meditor.

The duration of the swaying was 00:09:36:21, calculated up to the moment the entire box rested on a firm surface. A quick calculation of the distance moved and its data on Atlantis's internal dimensions, and from conversations and other auditory input, confirmed that the Goa’uld’s orders had been followed and they were in a puddle jumper. 

Machina began to calculate the potential scenarios forward from current circumstance.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm on a roll, posting chapters so close together?  
Thanks to all of you who are reading along!

“It’s been too long,” Jack said into the phone.

Hank Landry, on the other end, said, “Agreed.”

Jack leaned all the way back in his office chair looking at the blank Pentagon-standard ceiling. “Carter ready?”

“She thinks so.” Landry didn’t say anything more for a moment and Jack waited him out. “She’s got a system set up to connect to the Atlantis computers and she worked with Dr. Lee off one of Dr. Mitchell’s reports to craft a worm she thinks will tunnel through the Goa’uld virus.”

Worms. Goa’uld. Jack was pretty sure Landry hadn’t meant the lame joke. “Why the call? You weren’t waiting for my permission to dial in.” Jack brought his free hand up to rub his temple. He’d backed off, no longer trying to work around Landry but letting the man _do his damn job_, as Landry had forcibly reminded him. He hated not being in control, but Landry had done him the courtesy of keeping him, as superior officer, completely in the loop. Not that there had been much looping to do, with no word from Atlantis or the Daedalus.

“I wasn’t waiting for permission, but I was waiting for a break in your schedule. Sergeant Cho set this meeting so that I could have you on the horn when we dialed in.”

Jack sat up. “Thank you,” he said. Landry hadn’t needed to do that, and Jack genuinely appreciated it

“It’s what I’d want in your shoes,” Landry said. “We’ll call you back from the control room and put you on speaker. Talk to you in five?”

“Sounds good,” Jack said and put the handset in the cradle, contemplating for a moment the hard-wired connection between him and the mountain. What was it Daniel had once gone on about for half an hour? _High technology isn’t complicated technology. It’s just the best tool for the specific job. There is no higher technology than a ball point pen that can also write under water._ Of course Daniel would focus on writing as an example, but Jack viewed the old phone line in the same light.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

ack got up to pace, not a typical habit, but the thought of Daniel, of how much he had been _not_ thinking of Atlantis just so he could do the rest of his job, made him need to move. He remembered that night in his office at home, the glint of light off Daniel’s glasses from where he sat deep in Jack’s wing chair. That was weeks ago, and they’d had no idea then what was wrong with Atlantis. Jack let himself feel a little guilty for using Daniel as a stalking horse with the Meropans and a lot more guilty about whatever had happened to cut off communication. Whatever was going on out there, his gut told him it meant change. He just didn’t know why or how. The Meropans having ships, technology to target Earth-made electronics? What else didn’t he know? 

The phone on his desk rang, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and walk back to his desk, to sit and compose himself before picking it up. 

“O’Neill.” 

“We’re ready to dial, sir,” came Harriman’s voice, recognizable even through the inevitable fuzz of the speakerphone. No, Walter wouldn’t have let anyone else handle this dial-out. 

“General?” Jack said, handing the baton to Landry, where it rightfully belonged. He listened to Hank giving the order, and Walter’s familiar cadence as he called the chevrons. 

Then there was a cacophony of many voices from which he could only discern that they had failed to establish a lock. 

"Goddamn it, Danny," Jack muttered, clenching his fist on the handset. "What in hell's going on out there?" 

-0- 

Cam glanced at the view screen on the bridge of the Elizabeth Weir, the image of Atlantis floating peacefully in the water at odds with the tension palpable in the air. He wasn’t immune to it, and flexing his feet against Beulah’s footrests was not enough. He grabbed his crutches from the sling on the back of his chair and levered himself to his feet. John stood in his full uniform next to the captain’s chair, staring at the screen as if it would show him Ronon’s team moving through the city like blips on a life signs detector. 

He moved next to John, who glanced over and asked, for the fifteenth time, “You’re sure you got all of them?” 

“Yes, we’re sure.” 

They had waited twenty-four hours after beaming all of the devices into a shielded compartment before sending down Ronon’s teams. They'd hoped that by then everything would have calmed down a bit from the fighting Rodney had described. Worse, though, was the silence. There had been no answer to their hails. The plan was for Ronon to secure the Control room, where the gate was being held open from Site Mu so no one from Atlantis could leave. Ronon would radio the Meropan contingent there and on John's order, gate in more people to secure the city – enough to at least calm things down. This was a foothold situation for Atlantis, and there were enough people in the Atlantis military that John had trained himself for foothold situations, so they knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But with Traveller pistols on stun settings, it had the potential to be bloodless. 

“I know you want to be down there,” Cam said softly. John staying on ship until the Control room was secured had been the biggest bone of contention, but Teyla’s reasoning had won out. They didn’t want John seen by the Atlantis Tau'ri as an invading traitor, and they also didn’t want to risk their most visible military asset, who was known across Pegasus. Meropis needed John. 

“Sir, incoming transmission from the ground team!” 

It wasn’t Ronon’s voice, but the comms officer in his team. “Charin, Weir, do you read?” 

“Charin standing by. Captain Minnder here.” 

From her chair, the Elizabeth Weir’s captain said, “Ingol on the Weir, standing by.” 

“Sitrep?” John said. 

“We have secured the control room. According to the—” there was a hesitation, and Cam guess they were avoiding the word _prisoners_. “They said one puddle jumper left before Mu began dial-in. We are waiting to transfer troops from Mu on your order. The Atlantis people are—“ Again there was a pause. “They are not well, and their computers are completely down. Only the gate appears to be working. There are no lights, no transporters, nothing. They think we are responsible.” 

John glanced at Cam, who said, “McKay and Zelenka mentioned a Goa’uld virus. If everything is down, then they couldn't have answered our hails.” 

"Or heard them," John said, nodding. 

“And Miko has the gene and can pilot a jumper,” Cam said softly. 

John gave a slight twist to his neck and brief shake of his head, eloquent to Cam that a Goa'uld loose in Pegasus was a goat rodeo John didn't want to think about and was shelving momentarily to deal with what they had in front of them. John took a breath and said to the comms tech, “Machina?”

“Stealth team has found no trace.” Cam swallowed at that news, conjectures filling his mind. Before he could settle himself, the report continued, “Apparently Colonel Stillwater was on the puddle jumper with that Dr. Kusanagi we were to look out for. There were three Marines with them, carrying a large box.” 

“Machina,” Cam muttered, the half-formed fear crystalizing into cold reality. The damn Goa’uld was off God only knew where with Machina in pieces, the soft voice of his friend silenced by disassembly. Not to mention Atlantis's military commander in tow. Cam would bet the Goa'uld had one of those meditor things, escaping before the Elizabeth Weir had arrived to beam them out. "Do we know where they dialed out to?” 

“No, Dr. Mitchell. The gate appears to work, but only the dialing feature is still functioning. We’ve had Mu disconnect and have been able to dial in to them, but that is all we can do, and only with addresses we already know.” 

“On our way,” John said. He turned to Captain Ingol. “Have McKay and Zelenka meet us in the transporter room.” When he turned back to Cam there was a complex mix of resignation and excitement in his expression. 

“You’ve always wanted to say that, haven’t you?” Cam said, amused despite his worries 

John shrugged with his eyebrows, and Cam understood the need for humor in the face of so many unknowns. 

Before he turned back to Beulah, Cam took a moment to look into John’s eyes. “It’ll be okay,” he said softly. John only closed his eyes slowly in response, tilting his forehead slightly, but not enough to touch. Cam shifted on his crutches. “Meet you there,” he said, heading over to his wheelchair. “I want to grab some things from our cabin.” 

It didn’t take long for him to get his tech bag and transfer over to the McKay2000 chair. He hoped the friendly R2D2 on the back painted by Lorne a lifetime ago would calm some nerves. He velcroed the kit in place and put a few necessities into a bag in case they ended up staying in the city. He pulled out a T shirt he never wore on Meropis but which would be familiar to some of the people on Atlantis. _Come to the nerd side. We have 3.1417._ He changed into it, leaving his Meropan shirt on the bed. If Atlantis had a computer problem, Cam planned to be a familiar face to help find solutions. 

He could hear McKay well before he rolled into the transporter. “Are you sure you’ve trialled this with anything bigger than a lab rat?” 

“You've been over every circuit, Rodney.” John drawled, and Cam could hear the fondness. “Relax.” And McKay immediately did, like a Pavlovian response to John’s laconic voice. 

While they waited for Brop to radio the team on the ground, Cam thought about Rodney's response, about what John had given up when they left to build Meropis with Teyla. John _talked_ to Rodney. Probably because that was all Rodney understood--the banter and the snark and the team dynamics that John didn't have any more. His relationship with Cam didn't need a lot of words, and even though John still had Teyla and Ronon, John Sheppard and Rodney McKay had been quite the dynamic duo. And imagining John as Batman and McKay in Robin's yellow tights was absurd enough to quench Cam's momentary melancholy. He heard Brop tell Ronon's team to expect four for transport, and when Brop looked expectantly between Cam and John, Cam nudged John’s thigh. 

John sighed slightly as if put upon, but his eyes crinkled and there was a half-mocking edge as he spoke. “Energize.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've reached the point where I know how this ends. Any loose ends you all are concerned about?


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best bits in this chapter were suggested by mific, who betas like she writes and makes art: with heart. Thank you, mific!

To shake off the restlessness, Jack had gone for coffee. He carried it back to his office in a paper cup, watching the lower ranks scatter before him. Even those with their backs to him moved to the side as they saw the ones coming toward them stop and back up to the wall at attention. Most of the time he didn’t pay attention to the automatic clearing of the way, but this time he watched the carefully blank faces. He caught one looking at him, an E-4 he vaguely recognized, and acknowledged her with a nod that left her blushing furiously.

He ignored it, and when he stood waiting for the elevator, movement began as normal. When the doors opened and he stepped inside, he heard a whisper of _Batshit Jack_ and turned to see the same airman with her head bent toward a second lieutenant Jack hadn’t seen before. She caught him looking and blushed again. Apparently Jack’s reputation was intact, so he smirked at her as the doors closed.

Alone, he dropped the smirk, but couldn’t get the damn nickname out of his head. He’d sent Danny in on the kind of cloak-and-dagger jaunt Jack had spent so many years doing, armed only with code phrases and eight years on SG1. And a PhD in Anthropology, Jack reminded himself. Danny had already seen things in Meropis others had missed, managing to convey them in notes Jack could eventually decipher. But whatever had affected everyone on Atlantis had gotten to Danny, too. And a God-damned, mother fucking snake was in the mix.

The elevator door opened to his floor. Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because those waiting for the elevator scattered. It was more than just making space for the general, so he smoothed his expression and nodded, giving a half-smile to calm whatever rumors were about to start. He remembered trying to read the tea leaves from the expressions of superior officers, and he didn’t want to start any rumors.

Sergeant Cho stood up as soon as he opened the door to his office. “Sir, they’ve been trying to reach you from the mountain.”

He put his coffee on her desk before he dropped it. “They get a lock?”

“Colonel Carter has been able to determine that they can’t establish a wormhole because the Atlantis gate is active.”

Jack stated the obvious. “Either they’re dialing out so no one can dial in, or someone is dialing in so they can’t dial out.”

“As you say, sir.”

“Get me Landry,” he said, grabbing the coffee and pushing open the door into his office.

He sat heavily in his chair, every Atlantis AAR running through his head in reverse. Blocking the gate meant hostile intent. It had to. The Atlantis folks were doped like sheep, and someone was finally coming to take advantage of it, trapping them on the city. Jack imagined something like Sheppard’s Genii invasion drama in reverse, a fighter from another planet stalking the halls of Atlantis and taking out the military personnel one by one. He hoped they’d be smart enough to spare the scientists who were needed to run the city, but that led him to imagine the scientists enslaved, like the Genii had done.

His intercom interrupted the hamster wheel of worst case scenarios running through his head. “Landry on line 2,” Cho said.

Jack took a breath before lifting the handset. “O’Neill.”

“Jack,” Hank said, “we have a plan.”

He appreciated Landry getting right to the point and his pent-up breath sighed out slow and controlled. “Do tell.”

“Carter’s got an algorithm that will dial their gate every minute to see if we can establish a lock at the end of the thirty-eight-minute window. It’s going to take a lot of power. She expects to drain at least 25% of a zero point module.”

“Why aren’t you doing it?”

“If Atlantis has fallen, recharging those batteries is going to be a bit more complicated.”

Jack gripped the handset, splaying the fingers of his other hand deliberately on the desktop so he wouldn’t make a fist. “Why are you prioritizing power over people?”

“I’m not, Jack,” Landry said. “There’s more to it than that. Carter's also worried about the Goa’uld virus she detected, so they’re firewalling or unplugging a lot of our tech, some of which we need for her dialing algorithm. She’s building workarounds as we speak. And there’s no guarantee we’ll get a lock, even dialing 39 or more times, if our timing is off.”

“So if we’re going to drain that power you need to make sure it’ll work and not screw up our systems in the process,” Jack said, putting it together. He was met with silence. He knew that silence. He’d given it to plenty of superior officers in his time. “Sorry, Hank.”

“I do know what I’m doing here. I listen to the people you told me to listen to.” Jack could hear Landry’s unspoken, _And could you stop second guessing me?_

“I’d like to be there when you make the attempt,” Jack said.

“Carter says it'll take another six hours. That should give you enough time to get back out here.”

-0-

Rodney looked over at Mitchell who was tapping away at a laptop propped on a console, its bright screen a contrast to the dark consoles surrounding them. The only other light came from the windows and the wormhole's glow connecting them to Site Mu, with occasional flashlight gleams from deeper in the control room. Nothing they had done had brought even a flicker of light, and Rodney felt despondant. The Meropans had command of the control room and he could hear Sheppard and Ronon conferring in low voices. There was nothing Rodney could do, and he looked at his hands in his lap, hating the helplessness.

Ronon’s voice penetrated as he and Sheppard started walking toward where Rodney sat in a console chair. “We should get Teyla down here if we’re going to dial their planet.”

“Let’s have her talk with Woolsey by radio first,” Sheppard said.

Rodney saw Ronon glance up at the office where Woolsey was confined, a guard at the door. “You sure about that?”

John managed a shrug with a brief tilt of his head and a quirk of his lips. “She needs to hear how bad it is. They’re gonna need to hear it at the SGC.”

“And the contrast between Liaison Emmagan and Director Woolsey will be pretty obvious,” Ronon said.

“Yeah. I mean, Teyla's always impressive, but the contrast's extreme right now. Woolsey's a mess. He's not even making sense half the time,” John said. “Hey, Rodney,” he added when they reached the console where he sat, slumped. “So, when d'you think they’ll be back to normal?”

Rodney shook his head. “How would I know? How long did it take me to get back to normal the first time?”

Mitchell looked up. “About four weeks. That’s how long it took you to even realize something was wrong.” He turned back to the laptop, although what he thought he was accomplishing, Rodney didn’t know. It all seemed so useless.

Sheppard turned to one of the Meropan guards. “Get a radio to Mr. Woolsey. I’ll tell Teyla the plan.”

“Anyone going to tell _me_ the plan?” Rodney asked pointedly, letting irritation cover his despair.

Ronon answered. “We’re gonna stay in the control room for now and wait before bringing in more troops. If everyone’s as messed up as we found them here, it’ll take everything we have to hold the entire city. Better to let things come right on their own.”

“What about the SGC?” Rodney asked. “They could send in people to handle this.”

“No,” Ronon said flatly, glancing up at Woolsey’s office and then at John, who looked grim.

“Why not?” They had enough power on Earth now to dial Atlantis, thanks to Atlantis recharging every ZPM they found. Surely the Meropans could let the SGC handle this? He almost missed the looks that passed between Ronon, Sheppard and Mitchell. “Why not?” he asked again, apprehensively. When they didn’t reply, he answered himself, not liking how it felt to say the words. “You don’t trust them.”

“They’ll go after Miko,” Sheppard said, “the Goa’uld that’s in her. And they won’t care what they burn down in the process.”

“And that’s if they _don’t_ think Meropis had something to do with the mess here,” Mitchell added. “Jackson was sent to spy. We all know that. They don’t trust us either or they would have just asked what we were planning to do.”

Rodney frowned. “Can’t we tell them? Or what about Caldwell? He could set them straight, tell them what happened.” 

“Colonel Caldwell is on the naughty list,” Mitchell said.

“Oh?” asked Radek, walking up behind Rodney from wherever he’d squirreled himself away. “What did I miss?”

Ronon looked at Mitchell and said, “You didn’t tell them while you were doing all the beaming out?”

“No, I wanted them to check the transporters without knowing what Caldwell got Novak to do.”

Radek glared, folding his arms. “What did they do?” he asked, his voice dark.

Mitchell sighed. "Let's just say that Caldwell's version of sharing technology was a Trojan Horse. He said yes a little to easy and they had a black box prepared already that would spy on the ships whereabouts and report back when it could. It was planned, and the order had to have come from higher up."

"Ano," Radek said, nodding. "A ship's captain would not have permission to decide to share such technology." 

They were interrupted by banging on one of the doors at the back of the gate area. "They're back," Ronon said, just before the Atlantean techs and Marines who had been in the control room started shouting back. Rodney guessed they were prisoners, and now he wondered if he was one and just didn't know it. 

"Get us out of here!" they yelled. "We're being tortured!" "I'm scared! I'm scared!" 

Rodney stared, but there was no sign of torture. The Meropans had tied up the Marines and stood guard over them, but the technicians were standing in an agitated cluster or sitting in chairs that had been dragged over from their consoles. Chuck was shouting, veins standing out on his forehead and the tendons in his neck bulging, and Rodney had never seen anything like it. What had Radek's device done?

"Beam down a meditor," he said without thinking, and then shouted it louder when Sheppard looked confused.

"Rodney, we can't subject anyone to mind control."

"What do you think is happening right now? None of these people are in their right minds, and we know there's been violence out there." He pointed at Chuck. Why couldn't they see it? "You can't leave them like this. Someone's going to get badly hurt, or worse."

Sheppard glanced at Ronon, who said, "Stun 'em again?"

Sheppard nodded, and Ronon and several Meropan guards moved to carry out the order. Rodney didn't like it. They couldn't just keep knocking people out because they were out of control. He tried to think, wincing at every sound of a stun pistol firing as the frightened shouts and threats from the techs and Marines crested before being abruptly silenced. It made him wince, even though he knew no one was dying. On the other side of the barred door, the shouting quieted down, and Rodney wondered if Ronon had a team outside, watching that door, if the people trying to get in had been stunned, too.

"That's horrible," Rodney said, and Radek nodded. Sheppard and Mitchell both looked troubled, and Rodney imagined the first round of stunnings had gone easier, in the heat of the occupation. "You can't keep doing that to them in, in cold blood," Rodney pleaded. "Dose them with meditors for a while and then turn the meditors off. It'll take some time for everyone to come right, like it did me, or it might take less time because they've also been hit by Radek's machines."

Mitchell caught up faster than Sheppard. "Then we send in regular people with food and help."

"With guards," Sheppard said, but he nodded as if he was starting to see Rodney's point.

"Zelenka and I are messed up anyway," Rodney said, swallowing the fear of becoming _stupid_ again. "Beam the meditors into the city, and when everyone has calmed down, we'll go in and turn them off." He turned to Radek, who nodded, something in his face like guilt and sadness, because there was no way he didn't realize the impact of what he'd done with the anti-meditors. Sympathy for Radek, and the need to make this right, pushed Rodney a little further from despair. "After more time in a calm state they shouldn't rebound like they are now," he said, a bit more confident than he felt. "It'll be like when it wore off for me on Meropis."

"But will you want to?" Sheppard asked, frowning.

Rodney looked up at him. "Want to what?"

"Turn them off, Rodney," Sheppard said, glancing over at Mitchell.

Rodney turned, pretty sure he understood what Sheppard meant, but he wanted to hear them say it, and it looked like Sheppard had passed the baton to Mitchell, so he asked him, "Why? Why wouldn't I want to turn them off?"

"Didn't you go right back under the meditor influence when you got here?" Mitchell said. "And when you first got to Meropis you went on about how great Atlantis was _these days_." Mitchell shook his head, looking at Rodney. His expression was… something. Sad? Worried? "You took long walks and talked about the sunsets, McKay. I couldn't keep your attention on engineering problems for very long. Once you'd solved the puzzle, you didn't care about finishing the designs. Do you want to risk that again?"

"You weren't here, when he came back to Atlantis." Radek jumped in before Rodney could respond, and his voice rose steadily as he continued. "Rodney was working toward fixing things. He and Dr. Jackson."

"And Machina," Rodney added.

"Yes, the robot was very helpful," Radek agreed. "But the point is, when we knew what was happening with the meditors and," he faltered and dropped his voice before continuing, "and my devices. When we knew, we could fight the effects. And we came to you for _help_!" He stood up straighter and glared at Sheppard. "These people do not _know_ why they are so upset. Tell them."

"We tried," Ronon said, his voice flat. "They thought we were lying. A couple of them tried to kill us."

"But when we turn the meditors on again," Radek said, "We will be able to talk with them calmly. Without my counter device—" he stopped and looked away, shamefaced.

"You couldn't have known," Mitchell said, but Radek didn't look like he could take comfort right now

"It's not the worst idea," Ronon said. His face had been blank while he stunned the prisoners, but Rodney knew he wouldn't have liked it.

Sheppard considered for a moment. "Okay. Have the meditors beamed back onto the city pronto, just not here." 

Mitchell nodded. "Mess, medical, and military first. Start on the outside and work our way in. We need to be unaffected here, and we need the SGC to hear Woolsey as he is."

"We should go back up to the ship to help," Rodney said, "to make sure it's just the meditors that get beamed down."

"Brop can handle it," Mitchell said, raising an eyebrow at Rodney before he could protest. 

Sheppard said, "Tell Site Mu to dial Meropis and request a party of teachers. Not professors," he said, glancing at Ronon and Mitchell. "Little kid teachers. Calm ones. Bring a few cooks, too. 

"And people who can do basic work like cleaning," Mitchell added. "Once the meditors are off again, they may need help with day-to-day stuff."

Sheppard turned to someone sitting with a box that Rodney hadn't noticed when he'd been focused on trying to resurrect dead consoles. "Hail the ship. Liaison Emmagen."

"John," Mitchell said. "Tell her it'll be better if they're not armed or uniformed. Kindergarten teachers, cooks, maybe some food supplies. The volunteers need to know it could take a while."

"It's—" Rodney started, then swallowed. He didn't like what he was about to say. "It's probably best that we leave the meditors on until they get here."

Sheppard nodded, clearly not liking it. Mitchell rolled over to him and touched the back of his hand to Sheppard's outer thigh. Rodney glanced away, uncomfortable at the intimacy of the gesture, but he could hear Mitchell say softly, "If we call the SGC they're going to want to send in troops, and I don't think that's a good idea for a couple of reasons."

Rodney looked back to see Sheppard grimace. "Ya' think?"

"So how do we keep that from happening? They'll have power to dial the gate, and we don't have a way to raise the shield with the damage from that virus."

Rodney sat up straight, panic rising. "Oh my God. We can't activate the cloak or the shield for the city. We're sitting ducks for the Wraith! No sensors. We won't even see them coming!"

"Relax, Rodney," Sheppard said. "We have two ships in orbit. We'll see them."

"Oh," Mitchell said, hitting Sheppard's hip with his fist, "you just _had_ to jinx it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just saw that this story is over a year old. We're getting to the home stretch. Thanks to everyone who is still reading!


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by mific, and as always though I don't say it, remaining mistakes mine.
> 
> (I do not have the trick of writing conversational intros, but here's to say that I hope all of you are surviving the pandemic as well as possible, and if this story provides some distraction, I'm glad.)

“Sir, incoming wormhole,” Walter said a moment before the klaxons sounded for an unscheduled activation. Jack could barely hear him add, “Engaging iris,” over the noise. The immediate movement in the gate room was familiar. The SOs taking up positions and manning the guns had been on high alert as Sam's dialing program had kept trying and failing to get a lock. An incoming wormhole, though, was unexpected. And suddenly Jack thought if they ever did fire that Howitzer the whole room would light up. Sam had probably calculated what would happen to the acceleration of a mortar through a wormhole. Jack took a breath, pulling his overactive brain away from the distractions. 

“Any signal?” 

“It’s an IDC, sir. An old one.” Jack didn’t tap his foot impatiently as Walter looked up the code, but it was a struggle. This was what they'd been waiting for. He raised his eyebrows when Walter’s round face turned to him, surprised and confused. “It’s Colonel John Sheppard’s IDC.” 

“Hail them,” Landry said. 

“No answer, sir.” 

“Scan other frequencies,” Jack ordered. He had a feeling they might not be calling on the Atlantis comms. 

There were a few tense moments before the comms tech said, “Found them!” Soon after, a voice echoed from the speakers. 

“—pard of Meropis calling the SGC. Commander John Sheppard of Meropis calling the SGC. Come in.” 

Jack started forward, and then leaned back to let Landry take the call. “General Landry here, Commander Sheppard. May I ask what has happened to the Atlantis personnel?” 

The answer came from a new voice. “This is Liaison Emmagan of Meropis. Atlantis is troubled, and we have come to help them. To whom am I speaking?” 

“Troubled how?” Jack interjected, unable to help himself. “Where’s Colonel Stillwater?” 

“He has been kidnapped by a Goa’uld,” Emmagan answered, her voice sounding to Jack like a bored waiter saying they were out of the fish, so sorry. “To whom am I speaking?” 

Jack glanced at Hank and let him answer. “General Henry Landry and my immediate superior officer, General Jonathan O’Neill.” 

“I am pleased to hear your voices again, generals.” 

“What about Dr. Jackson?” Jack asked, not willing to play her diplomatic games. 

“I regret that he has been detained, but he was also affected by the troubles on Atlantis.” 

“_What_ troubles?” Landry asked, and Jack glanced over. Landry’s expression probably mirrored his own—anger and worry at this unexpected turn of events, hearing from Meropis’s people and not their own. 

“We will let Dr. McKay explain. Please let him speak without asking questions. Please also know that his mind has been severely affected by events,” Emmagan said. 

McKay’s voice came through, “Oh, great, tell the generals I’m all scrambled. That’ll really make them believe me.” 

“I will help, Rodney,” came another voice, accented. Jack didn’t recognize it. 

“And after Dr. McKay and Dr. Zelenka narrate recent events,” the Emmagan woman said, “we will bring Mr. Woolsey to speak to you.” 

Jack caught Sam waving at him from her computer, the one isolated from the network so she could try to crack the Goa’uld virus. He raised his eyebrows in invitation. “Sir,” she said, “ask what radio they’re using. This is not a signal Atlantis would produce.” 

“Quick question before you start, Dr. McKay,” Landry said, picking up on why the question was important. “How are you contacting us?” 

A new voice answered. “Meropan radio, keyed to a frequency we thought you’d detect. Dr. Cameron Mitchell, here,” the voice added, “in case you’re keeping score.” 

Sam perked up at the name, which Jack remembered as the last surviving Snakeskinner turned computer geek. “And the computers?” Sam asked. “I’ve not no signal.” 

“Borked,” Mitchell said, “and that’s the appropriate technical term. The Goa’uld did something before it left and the only thing working is the gate.” 

“Can I get started?” McKay’s voice interrupted, familiarly cranky. “We’re on a clock here. Thirty-eight minutes.” 

Landry said, “We’ll call you back if we get cut off.” He signaled to the comms tech to start recording. 

“So,” McKay continued, “the Ancients were kind of jerks and they made these mind-control machines that were supposed to help children learn to meditate. To ascend, of course. Somehow, a Goa’uld got into Miko Kusanagi and it found the things, cranked them up, and spread them all over Atlantis. I managed to escape to Meropis—” 

“We got you out,” Sheppard’s voice interrupted. “Just kept inviting you until you finally said yes.” 

“You told them not to interrupt! Don’t _you_ do it!” 

“You were kind of out of it, Rodney.” 

“_You_ tell the story then!” 

Jack had had enough of the bickering. “_Gentlemen_.” 

“Right, right,” McKay said. “So Atlantis was full of happy loopy folks, and I got my brain back on Meropis, and we figured out what was doing it. Well, Machina and my hologram told us what it was, and then…” 

Jack listened to McKay’s entire ramble. It was informative, but choppy, and made it clear he wasn’t quite in his right mind. Zelenka filled in a few of the blanks, or really just bickered with McKay about the details, but when they wound down Jack had a pretty good idea of the extent of the entire clusterfuck. 

Landry spoke into the stunned silence that followed McKay's spiel. “So there’s a Goa’uld in Pegasus that's kidnapped my Atlantis military commander and three Marines and it’s carrying one of these meditor things. Dr. Jackson is in custody. You've taken the Atlantis control room, but there are several hundred scientists and civilians in the rest of the city who are not in their right minds.” 

Sheppard answered, “That’s about the size of it.” 

“This is most concerning,” Emmagan said before Jack or Landry could answer. “If the Goa’uld has a meditor and your Colonel Stillwater, then wherever it has gone, your military personnel are likely fully compliant with its plans. Although that is no fault of their own, the people of this galaxy will see Colonel Stillwater’s presence in particular as supporting the Goa’uld’s actions.” 

“What exactly are you saying?” Landry asked, frowning. 

Emmagan answered, her voice firm. “The Goa’uld is a threat to Pegasus, and given that it is in the body of an Atlantis scientist with the Atlantis military commander at its side, none of your people are trusted in our galaxy.” 

Jack froze. The way she’d said _none_ made him think they knew about Danny and possibly about the black box for the transporter, which would explain why Danny had been _detained_. Damn. He glanced at Landry, who had only met Emmagan when she was the _native womanon AR1._ He hadn’t seen her the way Jack had, as the head of a thriving city, wielding soft power to create a coalition of planets. The launch of the university in Meropis had been both a celebration and a show of the technology and their control of it, garnished with all the cultural displays and food. But no cake, he recalled. 

“And Colonel Caldwell,” Landry asked. “Why isn’t he with you?” 

It was Sheppard who answered. “He’s also been detained.” 

“Detained?” Landry said, his voice tight to avoid shouting. “Why?” 

“As I said,” Emmagan answered, her voice serenely uninformative, “None of the Tau’ri are well trusted in this galaxy.” 

“What about me?” McKay asked plaintively in the background, and Jack heard the sounds of shushing. 

Landry had a look on his face, a planning look, a _how many troops can I get through the gate and how fast_ look. Jack reached out and tapped his arm for attention. When Landry glanced over, he shook his head. Still looking at Landry he said, “You said we could talk with Director Woolsey.” 

“Indeed,” Emmagan said, sounding so much like a female Teal’c with that one word. “He is here now.” 

“Let go of me!” yelled the unmistakable voice of Richard Woolsey. 

“We would like you to speak with your counterparts on Earth,” Emmagan said. 

“Well why didn’t you say so!” 

“Mr. Woolsey,” Landry said. “What’s your situation?” 

“They finally showed their true colors!” 

“Who?” Jack asked. 

“These so-called Meropans, the traitor Sheppard, and now Dr. McKay has fallen in with them!” 

“So, what did they do?” Landry asked. 

“They’ve taken over the control room, stunned my people here, and locked out everyone else. They crashed our computer systems and not even the stoves work in the kitchen, not to mention any defensive capability, which I’m sure is what they want, to starve us and leave us open to the Wraith, and I want to know why you’re not sending troops through the wormhole, because—” 

“Mr. Woolsey,” Jack said, in his best _I’m talking to overwrought civilians voice_. “Last time we talked with you and Colonel Stillwater, you were blaming the SGC for your troubles.” 

“You're all against us! Colonel Stillwater had me locked in my office. All I know is that everything was ruined when Dr. Jackson came and you! You sent him right to Meropis! You're working with them, I know it! We were doing _so_ well. Everything was so _calm_…” Woolsey trailed off into the sound of sobbing. 

Jack glanced at Landry as he heard Sheppard say, “Rodney, Radek, take him back to his office and get him some tea.” Landry looked grim.

“As you can see,” Emmagan said, her voice grave, “he is not in his right mind.” 

“Let us send our people in,” Landry said, and Jack almost shook his head, but he didn't want to openly contradict Landry. He shared the instinct to want boots on the ground there, but something told him it wouldn’t be the right choice. 

“Or maybe just one or two people,” he said, a plan forming in his head. “Colonel Carter’s been working on the Goa’uld virus since we detected it on our end.” He looked at Landry for any response to Jack volunteering one of his staff and got a tight nod for an answer. “And what about me, ATA and all?” He shouldn't. He _knew_ he should not, with his senior rank, go out into the field. But if Meropis was doing what it looked like it was doing, he didn’t want the shifts in power handled by anyone else. 

And Jack never thought he’d say this, but he missed Elizabeth Weir.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by mific.  
The next two chapters are already written and going off to beta. Thanks to mific and all of you for sticking with the story.

Jack stood on the floor of the SGC gate room, geared up in borrowed BDUs and vest. He’d packed one vest pocket with Danny’s allergy meds by habit, earning himself a look from the quartermaster, someone Jack had never met before. He earned another look when he refused any weapon other than a sidearm, a Beretta 9 mil, the weight familiar on his leg even after a few years in an office. His pack had another set of BDUs, and skivvies for a week. He hoped Atlantis could get the laundry up and running. 

He hadn’t been stupid about this trip, regardless of Hank doing his best to talk him out of it. Hank had called the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, that jackass Admiral Jeremiah, and from the satisfied look on Landry’s face, Jeremiah agreed with him that Jack should stay put. Jack had sighed, walked out to the phone on Landry’s assistant’s desk, and used another line to call the President, watching Hank’s expression change as Jeremiah got the call. Jack imagined the President and Jeremiah each with phones at both ears, the President with Jack in one ear and Jeremiah in the other, Jeremiah with Hank in one ear and the President in the other. It made him grin. 

The President had agreed with him. If they didn’t do this right, they were going to lose Atlantis to the Meropans, and no one wanted Earth to lose their base in Pegasus. The old White House bunker had been replaced with a plan to move the leadership of all IOA nations off planet, out of the Milky Way galaxy if the worst happened. Jack thought the idea was stupid. What would be left to lead if things went tits upthat badly? But it served Jack's purpose to remind the President of that, and that he was a known quantity to both Meropis and Atlantis. He and Sheppard had gotten on okay, and even though Stillwater was a hardass who Jack wouldn’t have chosen, he was good enough that Jack hadn’t overruled Landry’s replacement for Colonel Lorne. Jack wondered, standing on the ramp and waiting for Carter, if he should have brought Lorne in on this trip. But no. Lorne should be on the short list for reassembling whatever there was of the Atlantis mission left to reassemble, and given Liaison Emmagan’s clear warnings about a lack of trust in the Tau’ri, Jack figured less was more. Anyway, he knew the ropes, though it had been a long time since he’d been dropped in enemy territory with a false passport and a shady mission. 

What would there be to salvage of a dead city? He hoped Sam could do her miracle thing because he had no confidence that McKay could tie his own shoes at the moment. He glanced over as Sam walked up fidgeting with the straps of her pack, which he was pretty sure was filled with cables and hardware. 

“Excited, Captain Carter?” he asked. She hadn’t been through the gate for a while, and he hoped she'd manage her usual brilliance for technical fixes. Sam had saved their bacon more than once on missions and definitely here at the SGC. 

“I’m glad you talked Landry into letting me go.” 

“I didn't say anything,” Jack said innocently. 

She grinned. “You just gave him one of your looks. And a whole conversation was in that look, sir.” She shifted her pack on her shoulders. “I’m ready as soon as the generator and supplies get here.”

A technician wheeled in a pallet with a naquadah generator. If nothing else, they might be able to get some of the essentials running, like the mess. Or the laundry, he thought. A second tech brought in the supply crate, a mix of more tech for Sam and a few luxury goods Sergeant Cho had recommended based on the unofficial notes in Sheppard and Mitchell's files and Woolsey's well-known taste in scotch and cigars. He hadn't known what to put in for Liaison Emmagan, and wished he could have gotten advice from Daniel, wondering what an incipient empress would need? Cheesecake, he had decided on a whim, remembering the sweets on Meropis. He was pretty sure they didn't have cheesecake in Pegasus, so a box was packed into the crate on ice bricks.

They waited through the dialing sequence, the kawoosh, and Jack and Sam walked up to the wormhole in front of the technicians pushing the pallets up the ramp. "Remember," Jack said, "count to five and push 'em through." He glanced up at Landry in the control room, tipped his hat, and stepped through. The trip to Pegasus was as long and disorienting as he remembered, and they stepped out into a dark room, lit by the glow of the wormhole and a few well-placed lanterns. It made the red glowing lights on the pistols pointed at them stand out. 

He put his hands up as Sam came through behind him. “We come in peace.” He stepped out of the way on the gate room floor and the pallets came rolling out of the wormhole. "We brought snacks."

-0- 

Valac sat back from his work. He’d been hunched over for hours, and even with his ability to heal the host body, it needed to move. As he stretched, he glanced around the small house he’d been given. The box that had carried the robot sat open, just inside the door, a leg sticking up and the clothes the robot had been wearing draped over the open top. Valac could see the curve of the puddle jumper through the window, parked in front of the house as a reminder of his power. The village leaders had been very accommodating as soon as they stepped within range of the meditor. 

He had tools laid out on a sturdy wooden table that occupied almost half of the front room of this house, close to the hearth. The head and torso of the robot were laid out, the body gleaming white, but the front showed only the black shell that housed the hologram it used for a face. There were only a few more connections to complete to reattach the head and torso, where the main computer was housed, but it was slower going than he would have liked and he was becoming far more tired than he was accustomed to ever feeling. Digging around in Miko’s memory was so much less efficient than asking her. In addition, it seemed she knew few specifics about this machine so he was working only from any general principles he could find. Valac had been battling frustration all day, but the reassembly was finally coming together. 

He sat back down to continue with the wiring. The sun was low, coming right into the window and at first it gave him the light he needed, but after very little time it dipped below the tree line. Valac called demandingly to where his retinue stood guard outside the house. “I need light!” 

One of the Marines came in a moment later with a flashlight. “Point it there,” Valac said, reaching out to adjust the man’s arm to his liking. Two more connections, and it was done. Valac sat back with a noise of satisfaction, that turned to annoyance as nothing happened. Why wouldn’t it turn on? 

_You could run a diagnostic,_ Miko’s thought slipped through, softly. 

He must be tired to have let control slip. Still, she might have some suggestions. He carefully gave her more leeway to speak. _How?_

_There is often a spare laptop in a puddle jumper._

“First Prime,” Valac called. “Come.” It was only a moment before Stillwater stood before him, neatly dressed and groomed as Valac required. He'd had the tailor in this village modify their uniforms with cloth he'd demanded in tribute. Valac had not decided on his sigil yet, so instead of branding Stillwater’s forehead, he'd given him a headband to distinguish him as first prime. 

“My lord,” Stillwater said. 

“In our ship there should be a spare computer, should there not? A laptop? Bring it to me.” 

_There’s a tech kit Dr. Mitchell designed before he left Atlantis and all the puddle jumpers carry it. It has more than the toolbox you found. We should have that, too._

_We?_ Valac had suppressed Miko's consciousness in the days since they arrived. Nonetheless, he ordered Stillwater to get the tech kit as well. 

_You will not find this in my memories because I have never worked on anything like Machina._

That surprised Valac. _Why not?_

_Machina built itself._

_What does that mean? _

_According to the reports from the mission, this robot started out as a physical avatar for an artificial intelligence programmed by a Dr. McKay from an alternate future. _

Valac thought he could sense something almost amused in Miko’s thoughts even as he tried to digest what that sentence meant. She clearly wasn’t lying, but it was difficult to believe. _What's the whole story?_

Between letting her tell the story and more details Valac dug from her memory of reading reports and general scientist gossip, he got the picture. The part that disturbed him most was her mention of how the alternate future had played out—a bad decision to try to turn Wraith into humans, the loss of Colonel Sheppard. He wondered about his alternate self and whether there had been the same Trust plot in that other Atlantis. Miko didn’t know. 

He wondered if he was still Valac-in-Pirenn in that alternate universe, and a wave of grief swept through him. He could feel Miko’s confusion at the emotion and his control must have been even less than he thought, because he heard her say, _Oh._ Just that one word, and for a moment he didn't feel alone. He could sense that Miko wanted to say more, but he wasn’t at all ready to hear sympathy from this host, the one he'd taken so forcefully. What would it have been like if he could have blended with Miko like he had with Pirenn? Miko was more intelligent, although it felt as though he was betraying Pirenn to think it. And he felt her sympathy at his grief. But of course, how could she not, controlled by his will as she was. 

Valac rose from the table, and pushed down the arm of the servant holding the flashlight, as he pushed Miko down into the background, noting that his servant’s arm was trembling with the effort of having been raised for so long. “Enough,” he said. “I will take food now.” 

Perhaps with this body fed and rested, he could use Miko to solve the problem. 


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mific is an awesome beta, and the best bits are down to her.

The sound of the cabin door interrupted Daniel’s meditation. He was working hard to quiet his mind in the wake of the manipulations on Atlantis—meditor, anti-meditor, and then nothing but leftover confusion. The door slid open to reveal Jinto Hallingson, who said, “Dr. Jackson, you are wanted on the Charin's bridge. There is someone to speak with you. Please come with me.”

“Who is it?” Daniel asked, but he didn’t expect an answer and wouldn’t get one. No one had said anything to him that wasn’t bland and empty since they’d come for Radek, and while Daniel didn’t expect the Meropans would hurt anyone, he worried about his friends, about the Atlantis they’d left behind. He followed Hallingson through the ship until they reached the bridge, his mind whirling with possibilities and worst-case scenarios. When he couldn't resist asking a question, Hallingson just gave him a look, so Daniel concentrated on his breathing again. 

When the door opened to the bridge, Daniel wasn’t prepared for the image of Jack on the main view screen. Daniel felt a slip of joy wash through him, a sudden feeling of _not alone_ that pointed out how much he had been ignoring his feelings of isolation. It wasn't just having been confined to a cabin on the ship for the last few days. The secrets he had to keep since he walked through the gate to Atlantis had kept him separated from everyone in Pegasus. And here in front of him was someone who knew them all. "Jack," he said, all breath and almost a sight of relief.

“Danny. They treating you all right?”

Code phrase. Code phrase. Daniel grasped for something that would work, and settled on, “They don’t have pizza. You didn’t happen to bring any anchovies, did you?” It was the best he could muster, but if the answer was yes, Jack had brought troops.

Jack smirked, but it was really a grimace, and Daniel could tell there was a whole host of problems behind it. “Nope, just me and Carter.”

So no reinforcements from the SGC. Daniel looked behind Jack to where Sam waved just behind him, the glow of a laptop lighting her face more than the others Daniel could see further back in the shadows. Radek was there and he seemed okay, but it was too dark to be sure. Daniel saw that all the consoles around them were dark. No one had said anything to him about Atlantis having power problems, but then, no one was telling him anything. “Can I help?” he asked.

Jack opened his mouth, closed it, glanced to the side and said, “Kind of not your wheelhouse. I was just checking in to make sure you were okay.”

“But when we got out of Atlantis, Jack, things weren’t good there. We heard fighting.” Daniel felt a wave of almost desperate _need to know_. "What’s happened? How did you even get here?”

Jack gave a sideways glance again. Someone out of the camera’s range must be telling Jack what he could and couldn't say. “They got that under control.”

“But how?” Daniel knew the meditor effects didn’t wear off quickly, and he was still struggling with the anti-meditor rebound.

“Oh, a little fighting fire with fire,” Jack said, and Daniel had no idea what that meant. Then it hit him, but he didn’t say it aloud. The Meropans must have transported the meditors back to the planet to calm things down. It wasn’t a bad decision, but it made Daniel uncomfortable. Jack added, “So, Radek and Rodney told me about your jailbreak down here.” Jack tilted his head. “Those Marines didn't hurt you?”

Relief coursed through him at the confirmation that Radek and Rodney were okay, but Daniel wasn’t sure why Jack would ask if he’d been hurt, and it wasn't any of the code phrases, so he answered simply. “They weren’t gentle, but it wasn’t as bad as some of our jail time.”

“Good, good.” Jack glanced sideways again. “They feeding you all right?”

Another code phrase, but they’d already dealt with anchovy pizza. There was too much going on to keep playing these games. Things still looked messed up on Atlantis what with the dark consoles, the presence only of Jack and Sam from the SGC, and the way Jack kept glancing over at someone who'd clearly told him to watch what he told Daniel. He chopped the air with his hand, a gesture of frustration and ending. “I can’t do this, Jack.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t try to undermine the Meropans,” Daniel said. “It’s not going to help.”

Jack raised his eyebrows and spread his arms expansively. “What makes you think I’m trying to undermine anything? The Meropans are doing all they can to help here. We’re grateful.”

A thousand retorts popped into Daniel's head, ranging from _When are you not trying to control the situation?_ to _I’m tired of this bullshit_ to _This galaxy is moving on its own path and Earth needs to support it or get out of the way_. All he said, the vowel stretched out a bit to convey all Daniel's frustrated thoughts, was, “_Jack._”

He could see Jack hesitate slightly, the kind of tell anyone who didn’t know him as well as Daniel did would miss.

A woman at a console on the Charin's bridge turned, her hand reaching unerringly for a switch, and Jack’s image blinked out. Before Daniel could protest she said, “Sir, we have Wraith signatures. Edge of our sensor range.”

-0-

Cam heard an exclamation from the comms station. Carter started to rise and then obviously thought better of it, perhaps realizing it wasn’t her place to rush in to fix anything. He heard O’Neill snap, “What happened?”

“They cut communication,” the comms tech said.

“Get ’em back!” O’Neill said, but Cam could see no one was moving to follow the order. They all looked to John. “Yeah, call them back. I’ll take it up in the office.” He was already moving, taking the stairs up to Woolsey’s office by twos before he’d even finished speaking. Whatever it was, John didn’t want the Tau’ri overhearing.

Cam leaned back in his chair and glanced over at Carter. There was something in her face besides confusion at the interrupted transmission, besides the frustration of battling the dead Atlantis systems for the last few hours. The naquadah generator she’d brought with her hadn’t helped much. The consoles had power now, but not even warning lights would come on—the Goa’uld virus had fried the embedded systems. Carter, though, seemed more sad than frustrated, maybe even guilty. He didn’t know her well, mostly just from the legend of SG1. They’d interacted some in the mountain while he was working on his PhD, and after, before the Atlantis assignment. He knew she’d read his reports from his time in the city two years ago, but Ancient systems weren’t really her main area of interest. He turned his chair to face her. “I know it looks pretty bad, but it’s not your fault.”

She looked at him and grimaced. “Some of it is.”

“How do you mean?” Cam asked. “You couldn’t have been expected to solve the virus problem by dial-up through the gate.”

“Yeah, but I was here,” she said. “I came for a few days on Jack’s order some time before McKay went to Meropis, supposedly to get McKay and Zelenka to help me with something. Jack actually wanted me to look for anything weird because of the change in reporting from the base, but when I was here, I didn’t notice. I came, we worked on the problem, and I didn’t even notice how weird it was that McKay hadn’t given me grief about asking for help.” She gave a wry half-smile. “Normally he would have lorded that over me. I didn’t really notice. All I felt was relief that I didn’t need to deal with his ego.”

Cam hadn’t known about Carter’s visit, but why would he? McKay hadn’t mentioned it. “You must have been hit by the meditors,” Cam said. “It's lucky you weren’t here too long.”

“Yeah. I just now realized I must have been affected. I didn’t even notice. And now you’re doing it to them again.” She didn’t look happy.

“Think of it as rebooting, Colonel,” Cam said, “or maybe just a soft reset. We’ll turn ’em all off when we have help for the folks in the city. You heard Teyla telling General O’Neill the plan.”

“People aren’t computers, Dr. Mitchell.”

“Cam, please,” he said. Something in his gut said he needed her on his side, even if—especially if—she worked for Jack O’Neill. Teyla had already started the process with Jackson. Cam had no illusions they’d get Caldwell on their side, but he hoped Lindsey Novak would come around. The Tau’ri had to understand they weren’t going to be allowed to continue in Pegasus the way they'd started.

“Okay, then call me Sam,” she said and gestured at the blank consoles. “Seems we’re kind of on the same team for now.”

“You bet,” Cam said, then picked up the thread. “People aren’t computers, no, but given what we’re seeing with McKay and Zelenka, who know full well what is wrong with them, it’ll be easier on everyone if the Atlantis folk are coming back up from the meditor than coming down from the anti-version.”

“Easier on everyone?” Sam said. “If they’re conveniently pliable?”

“Hey,” Cam said. “Same team, right? Easier on them, too.”

She considered it for a long moment, then nodded and patted a dark console. “Too bad we can’t just do a hard reset on these.”

Cam’s head turned so fast he almost hurt himself, the solution appearing in his head. “But we can.” He turned his wheels, ignoring Sam’s questioning face. “John! John!”

Ronon intercepted him. “He’s up in the office talking to the Charin, remember?” He looked at the comm tech, who nodded to affirm they’d re-established contact. “You okay?”

Cam nodded absently, his head busy, trying to figure out the logistics of his idea. “Shit. We don’t have Machina.” He said. “And without the consoles up, we can’t stop Atlantis from locking out Meropis’s gate.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, walking up to Cam and Ronon.

Cam vaguely realized that others were paying attention to him. “At some point Stillwater got paranoid and made McKay fix it so the Meropis and Atlantis gates couldn’t directly connect. That’s why there’s Site Mu.”

“Mu?” Sam said, “What is that? Like an alpha site?" She nodded and answered herself. "Physical buffer.” Cam glanced up. She had a calculating expression. “How would you make that work?” she asked, but the question was clearly rhetorical and he watched her think it through in seconds. “Oh. Software, not resident to the gate." She looked down at Cam, frowning. "But the gate still works, and with the virus having borked everything else, well, the program to lock out Meropis,” she gestured toward the dark consoles, “I’d say it probably isn’t running. You should be able to phone home.”

“Yes!” Cam said, resisting the urge to spin in place as the plan solidified in his mind. Oh, this would make everything so much easier.

Ronon frowned. “What are you on about now?”

“What do you do when your PC goes blue screen of death?” Cam asked.

Ronon looked confused and a little irritated at the Earth reference, but Cam looked at Sam.

“Complete system reset,” Sam said. “Hard reboot, but how? It's not like Atlantis has got a boot disk.”

“Meropis.” Cam almost sang the name. “We over-write the Atlantis operating system with the Meropis OS.”

Sam blinked at him twice. “Damn,” she said. “That could work.”

“Of course it will!” Cam gave into his utter geek joy and spun his wheels enough for the computer in his lap to slide. He grabbed at it and yelled again, “John!” John came out of the office and walked to the edge of the balcony, looking grim, dampening Cam’s enthusiasm. “Trouble?” he asked.

John surveyed the control and gate area before settling his gaze back on Cam. “I jinxed it. Wraith, three days out.”

There was a palpable shift in the control room, the Meropan guards tensing as if the Wraith were already there. Cam was glad they'd cleared the room of Atlantis personnel, all now back in the parts of the city under the influence of meditors. Who knew how they would have reacted when they were still jacked up?

“We shouldn’t be giving off any signals with everything in the city down,” Sam said, professional, but clearly tense. “How would they track us here?”

“Do they look like they know where to find us?” Cam asked.

John nodded. “Just came out of hyperspace beyond the edge of the solar system, changed course immediately for the planet, but not at top speed. The Weir and the Charin both confirm.”

“We don’t have shields!” McKay said, his voice rising, but Cam didn’t have time to deal with his panic.

O’Neill stepped up. “We need to evacuate everyone right now!” No one paid him any attention.

Ronon said, “We need to get Teyla back to Meropis. If we can gate directly, we should beam her back down and send her through.”

John nodded, quelling O’Neill with a look when he started to speak again. “I don’t want to evacuate everyone and abandon Atlantis, but we will if we have to. Cam?” he turned back, and Cam felt in the pressure of his gaze. “You have something?”

“Well I didn’t know we were gonna need it so fast, but I have an idea for bringing the city back on line.”

Cam could see John straighten as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, even up on the balcony, and it almost looked like his ears pricked up a bit. “Do it.”

“You don’t want to hear it first?”

John turned toward the stairs and didn’t answer until he was half way down. “I trust you,” he said, looking at Cam with a flash of fondness that disappeared into determination by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. He looked at all the Meropans, then pointedly included Sam, McKay, and Zelenka. Finally he turned to O'Neill and raised an eyebrow. Apparently John hadn't missed Jackson telling O'Neill not to undermine the Meropans.

Cam watched O'Neill carefully, but all he did was glance at Sam, nod, and say, "I'm in."

John nodded in return, accepting what O'Neill didn't say aloud, that he would follow John as commander. John turned to Cam, slight expressions fleeting over his face in a mix of hope and worry and pride. “What do you need us to do?”


	36. Chapter 36

Valac opened his eyes in the dark room, sleep shedding off slowly. He rose and called for a servant, one of the people from this village who had welcomed his rule so easily with the help of the meditor. In the few days they’d been here, the villagers had learned to tend to his needs, washing his body in the morning and bringing the food his host needed to survive. As he ate, he considered his host and what she had told him about the robot.

She would be a help, Valac decided. As he finished the last piece of fruit, he relaxed his control, letting her taste it, sweet with a hint of acid and a flavor she called mint. He breathed in, shared with her the sense of ribs expanding, of air moving through nostrils.

_What do you want?_ Miko asked.

“To be honest,” Valac said aloud, “If you are going to help me with this machine, you will be more useful and sharper if you have bodily sensations available. Sight, touch.” He looked out the window and let Miko see the trees beyond the shape of the puddle jumper, the sky with hints of blue and green swirling. “Of course, I will know if you try to use the robot against me.” Miko had been starved for sensation. He hoped this would be a bribe, to let her work in the way her mind did best, to breathe and taste, to be present with him. He would even let her move.

_Of course,_ she said. _I understand._

“Of course you do,” he said aloud, and then switched to thought. _Shall we begin for the day? Would you like to go for a walk before we start?_ It was a bribe as well to allow her to get used to controlling the body before she attempted any delicate work on the robot. He paused for an answer, and felt her hesitate. _You would take the walk. I will cede control_. He would be able to push her down in an instant, if he needed to.

He could sense her excitement. _Yes, please._

-0-

Cam looked at the image of the older McKay in the hologram room in Meropis. It had its arms folded over the frumpy cardigan, a gesture Cam knew well. “It sounds risky. You said Machina is missing, and frankly I feel like I’ve been without hands since it left on your hare-brained scheme.”

“We’ll find it,” Cam said. “But we need your help.” He turned as two of his students rolled in the ancient MALP that had once housed the hologram, the limited AI it had had before integrating with Meropis’s systems. “It’s a duplicate you, not you, and we won’t connect you here until, well, the you on Atlantis tells us it’s safe to throw the switch.”

“So I put a copy of me back in _that thing_—” It gestured at the MALP.

“With the software to run the hologram room in Atlantis,” Cam said.

The hologram gave a harumph at being interrupted. “And with the software to control the connection to Meropis through the gate remotely.”

“And to download a copy of the central operating system in 30-minute chunks.”

“Which requires its own software on this end to prepare and manage.”

“Which you are perfectly capable of coding in less time than it takes us to talk about it.”

The hologram looked thoughtful. “Not less time.”

Cam grinned. “You’ve already started, haven’t you.”

“Perhaps,” the hologram admitted.

“Your copy, and eventually _you_ when the connection starts, will be working with Dr. McKay,” Cam said, hoping that was the incentive he thought it might be. The hologram had initially been bitterly disappointed when McKay came to Meropis while still suffering what they now knew was the effect of long-term meditor exposure. Not that McKay was much better now, Cam thought with a qualm, not letting his misgivings show.

The hologram looked thoughtful for a half a second, which Cam knew meant much internal processing. “Will the other me be discarded when the job is finished?”

Cam hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know.”

“I know the SGC. They’ll be suspicious and want it deleted once they have their city back.”

Cam swallowed back something, glanced at his students who were connecting the MALP and trying to act like they weren’t eavesdropping, and said to them, “Give us the room for a minute.”

They cleared out, and he didn’t dare look at them, but he didn’t speak until the door was closed.

“Atlantis will never belong to the SGC again,” he said. “Not if Teyla has her way.”

The hologram looked thoughtful, tapping a finger against its lips. “And recent history would say that she usually gets what she wants. But they won’t accept it easily.”

“True,” Cam said, but then an idea struck him. Caldwell had made Lindsey Novak try to put a black box in their transporter system. Why couldn’t they do the same to Atlantis, but instead of a black box, it could be the AI itself. “We could put something in the copy of you to make it loyal to Meropis.”

“To Pegasus,” the hologram corrected. “And that wouldn’t require any changes.”

Cam sat back, surprised, and vaguely chagrined he'd had that reaction. He decided to ask explicitly. “What are your loyalties, hologram of the Great Dr. Rodney McKay?”

The hologram looked surprised and then answered as if Cam were a bit dense. “The safety and growth of humanity, the Zeroth Law above all.”

“A robot may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm,” Cam quoted, realization starting to dawn on him.

“Yes, exercised through my actions on this city, for this galaxy, and by extension, all of humanity. Has the behavior of the SGC threatened humanity in this galaxy?” The hologram crossed its arms again. “Well?”

"Yes and no." Cam closed his eyes, realizing just how immense the ethical issues here were, everything from the mind control of the meditors to him and John talking about embedding some kind of program in Atlantis to deny the SGC complete control. Or asking an AI to behave against its nature, if that’s what he was actually doing. He wished Machina were here. It sometimes argued with the hologram, and they came to better solutions when they did. Maybe it was just the AI sharing its internal processes with whoever else was in the discussion, but Cam didn’t think so. Machina and the McKay hologram were different beings. Cam was acutely aware of the time crunch. He knew that trying to shortcut through this issue, now that the hologram had raised it, would completely scuttle the entire plan, but they didn’t have time for a long debate. “What about Machina?” he asked, keeping the anxiety out of his voice. “Is it merely your hands? I had the distinct impression you two were no longer the same.”

“If we do this,” the hologram answered, “I will make another avatar for Atlantis.” It wasn’t an answer.

“What would turn your _if_ into a _yes_?” Cam asked.

“Here on Meropis you treat Machina and myself as fully autonomous individuals. You make requests, and do not order us.” Cam hadn’t thought about it, but it was mostly true. He considered Machina a friend, the hologram a grumpy colleague. “The copy of the hologram we send to Atlantis will have different experiences and grow in different ways. It must also be recognized as an autonomous agent.”

“If we have control of the city, I can guarantee that,” Cam said without thinking. They had never considered formalizing the AI’s status, but Cam didn’t think Teyla would have a problem with it. John might see a potentially rogue AI as a security threat, though. “Well, I can argue for it. John might worry.”

“The Four Laws and your prior experience with us should resolve those concerns,” the hologram said.

Cam noted the _us_, but all he said was, “Yeah, they should.”

“So.” The hologram pointed at the MALP. “If I put a copy of myself and the program I’ve just created to transfer the core operating systems for Atlantis into that primitive tin can there, promise me you will not open it until you have agreement on its status. I’ve just written a program that will require voice print assurances. You said General Jonathan O’Neill is present on Atlantis?”

“Yes,” Cam said, wondering just how far the AI was going to take it.

“The hologram will initialize but only install itself after voice print identification and agreement to its autonomy from General Jonathan O’Neill, Liaison Teyla Emmagan, Commander John Sheppard, and Director Richard Woolsey.”

“Woolsey’s kind of out of it,” Cam said automatically, thinking about what this demand meant. He glanced up at the hologram, which didn’t look impressed. “We can’t ask Woolsey to make a promise when he’s not in his right mind. General O’Neill’s word should be enough.” The hologram looked a bit mulish. “Okay,” Cam said. “But if we can’t get Woolsey, who will you accept? They’ve all been under meditor and anti-meditor influence. There’s ethics around that, too.”

The hologram uncrossed its arms at that, nodding to concede the point and looking pleased. “True." The hologram looked for a moment like it was considering options, but Cam was pretty sure that was a cover; the AI processed too fast. It was softening Cam up for something, and it finally said, "Dial into Earth and get every member of the IOA to agree. General Jonathan O’Neill cannot commit the IOA.”

Cam blanched. “I don’t think we have time for that kind of political maneuvering.”

“Or you can evacuate the city and leave it to the Wraith,” the hologram said, closing its eyes and blinking out, leaving an empty platform.

_Well, shit,_ Cam thought, sitting back. This kind of diplomacy was a job for Teyla. He turned and opened the door. His students were still milling around. “Hook up the MALP and ask the hologram to make the copy of itself for Atlantis. _Ask_,” he emphasized. 

He rolled out of their way and paused to key his radio. “Teyla, I know we just gated back, but have you got a minute?”


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by mific.  
You know, sometimes I think I've hit the emotional beat I want, and mific adds two words that really nail it. I so much appreciate your brain!

Machina kept the hologram of its face switched off. It had concluded that standby mode had a 13.6% chance of detection, so it kept only a trickle charge to audio sensors, not activating cameras for more than momentary scans. Machina had chosen to conserve power and gather data, and would not make a decision on revealing its awareness and abilities until all four limbs were correctly attached, and even then, only if it calculated an advantage or the need to do so. Several scenario updates ran in the background as it attended to the hands effecting repairs.

It had already catalogued that it was in a house similar to those in the villages outside Meropis proper. The voices outside spoke a language Machina knew, the accent indicating this was Vedena. Occasionally Colonel Harold Stillwater would come in to receive orders from the Goa’uld in Dr. Miko Kusanagi. During this, Machina had learned that the Goa’uld was named Valac, that there was a modified meditor in the village even more powerful than the ones on Atlantis, and that Valac must be having conversations with Dr. Miko Kusanagi. It was the only conclusion to support the Goa’uld’s behavior of speaking aloud and appearing to answer remarks Machina could not sense. The alternative hypothesis was that the Goa’uld was insane, although logic did not dictate an either/or conclusion.

The primary subject of the one-sided conversation was Machina and how to effect repairs, Valac expressing frustration that _the robot_ would not activate in 17% of his remarks. Valac’s current frustration had to do with the complexity of Machina’s shoulder joints. “This doesn’t make sense,” he said. “No. I mean yes, I suppose it does mimic the anatomy of humanoid muscles.” Machina noted that it must have been Dr. Miko Kusanagi who came to that correct conclusion. There was a pause. “Alright, you try it.”

Machina could sense a change in the way the fingers engaged in the repairs interacted with his connections. Machina had few touch sensors for its inner workings, but its shoulders had proprioception for positioning and the Goa’uld had manipulated them awkwardly in his attempts at the reconnection, providing Machina’s motor functions with confusing signals. The movements had now changed, becoming slower and more deft. The strength and technique of the manipulations was distinctly different from the data Machina had recorded in the joining of head to torso and most of the work on the right arm. The new touch used 63% less force and worked at a pace that was 22.7% faster. Machina could feel the connections re-establishing. Soon it had access to most of its left arm, but continued to remain unresponsive. It felt its fingers move, the signal coming from external current applied to a connection in the shoulder joint, not from its own central processors.

“Yes, I’ll let you do the other one once you've finished this one. You’re better at this than me, but tell no one I admitted it,” Valac said.

The logical assumption, between the one-sided conversation and the change in sensory input, was that the Goa’uld had permitted Dr. Miko Kusanagi to control the body. Through most of a day, the work mostly done in silence, the Goa’uld and Dr. Miko Kusanagi re-attached both arms and one leg. Valac spoke aloud on occasion, his expressions of frustration increasing throughout the day. Machina wondered there were internal conversations because the audible outbursts had no context Machina could discern. This apparent cooperation between Goa’uld and host had changed Machina’s calculations of possible outcomes. Machina considered the relative value of remaining quiet and of activating an interface to help direct its own repairs. Between the tools in its fingers and Dr. Miko Kusanagi’s hands, it calculated a 49% increase in the chances of full repair without the facilities on Meropis. If it could communicate with Dr. Miko Kusanagi without Valac’s awareness, the odds would increase, but the chances of success for undetected communication were less than 0.04%. And Machina had not been able to calculate the relative possibility of true cooperation between host and parasite versus cooperation controlled by the host, or cooperation calculated to deceive the host and afford Dr. Miko Kusanagi a chance to rebel.

Work had apparently stalled, and after several attempts to connect Machina's left leg, the Goa’uld slammed the tools down on the table. “What do you mean you cannot do it?” There was a 2.4 second pause. “_I_ didn’t disassemble it. It’s not my fault those animals ripped it apart!” The Goa’uld rose from the table, banging the host's hands down in frustration.

Machina ran a diagnostic on the connections. Mechanical stability was likely, but control would be highly limited, the leg little more than a prop. It had begun to calculate the impact of limited mobility in possible scenarios to escape the Goa’uld when new sounds in the distance activated audio anlaysis programs. Wraith darts, too distant for human ears to detect at this point. The First Law to protect humans now took precedence over the Third Law to protect itself. Machina did not activate the face hologram, simply using its voice synthesizer at minimal capacity, producing flat mechanical tones. “Incoming Wraith.”

“What?” Valac turned and looked at Machina. “You’re active?”

Machina merely said, “Auditory sensors detect incoming Wraith,” in the same droning voice, trying to sound like the malfunctioning robot Valak took it to be. If the Goa’uld knew it had full function, Machina’s calculations predicted only a 5.4% chance of eventual escape.

“You’ve been hiding!” Valac said angrily.

Machina said robotically: “Emergency override. Audio sensors detect incoming Wraith.” It wasn’t completely a lie, but Machina calculated a 67% chance it would convince the Goa’uld that only minimal activity was possible.

“First Prime!” Valac yelled. “Transfer my work table with the robot to the ship! We will shelter there.”

Machina’s inertial sensors felt the jostling of the table as it was carried to the puddle jumper. It did not hear any sounds of the villagers taking shelter, even though the Wraith darts should be audible by now. It turned on a few cameras, and saw that all the people in the village lane had stopped and were looking vaguely up at the sky. Machina’s databanks included minimal information about the rest of Pegasus, and the lack of a connection to Meropis severely limited its data-access, but it knew many villages had caves nearby where they sheltered from cullings. It calculated insufficient time remaining in which it could induce a meditor-slowed human to recall where the shelter was, much less to physically lead people to it, even if it hadn’t had the diminished mobility of a half-disabled leg. Machina activated its vocal system and blasted a high-volume warning in the local language: “Run to your caves! Wraith! Wraith! Run to your caves!” Machina repeated the call, continuing even after it felt a jolt and cessation of motion. Cameras indicated it was in the gate ship. Machina increased the sound pressure and continued to vocalize the warning.

“Silence!” Valac ordered. “Close hatch. I’m going to engage the cloak.”

Machina continued warning the humans until it heard the hatch engage. It could sense little outside the hull of the ship, but the calculations were not difficult. The entire village would be culled, and it hadn’t been able to prevent it.

It had violated the First Law.

It had violated the First Law.

It had violated the First Law.

-0-

Rodney wasn’t sure why he was in the room for this discussion. The Meropans had set up their video comms in the conference room at the long side of the table. Teyla had arranged them to face the screen, with herself at the center, flanked by Sheppard and Woolsey. Rodney was at the short end of the table, Mitchell between him and Sheppard. O’Neill was seated next to Woolsey, Ronon at the end on the far side, facing Rodney.. He was sure Teyla had diplomatic reasons for the arrangement, and there was no mistaking who was in charge. She was dressed in a turquoise gown with a long, embroidered vest. She looked no different from the teammate he remembered, the steady negotiator who had handled trades for them and avoided conflicts. She had been just as regal in that simple leather vest as she was now in this formal embroidered one, but he’d never seen it at the time.

The activation of the view screen pulled him away from his thoughts. The IOA members appeared, seated at their own table. Teyla opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a woman with a British accent. “You will turn over Atlantis to General O’Neill’s command,” she said without preamble, “or we have no basis for discussion.”

O’Neill surprised Rodney. “With all due respect, Ms. Dixon-Smythe, that option's not on the table.”

“How so?” a man with a Russian accent said, his expression calm and curious, a contrast to the angry red flush creeping up the British woman’s face.

Rodney caught O’Neill glancing at Teyla before he continued. “You read the report?”

The IOA members nodded, but the British woman said, “Mr. Woolsey, you did not sign that report.”

“I don't know what you mean,” Woolsey said placidly. “Everything's back to normal here. I can’t think why I was upset before.”

“As you see,” Teyla said, speaking for the first time, “Atlantis is still troubled. Volunteers from across Pegasus have come to help the people here until the effects of the Ancient device have dissipated.”

“And that is much appreciated,” Xhu Bo from China put in. “But you should send them back here to receive treatment. We will send replacement personnel.”

"Not necessary," Woolsey said.

Teyla tilted her head slightly in Woolsey's direction. “We would be willing to send them back to your planet if they are willing to go,” Teyla said, “but we will not welcome any replacements.” She sat serenely as the IOA erupted. She ignored everything they said until they'd calmed down a bit. “You have read the report.”

“Why should we believe you or that traitor Sheppard?” snapped the Dick-Smith woman, or whatever her name was.

“Because I’m vouching for everything in that report,” O’Neill said. “You might notice that I _wrote_ it.”

The Russian looked thoughtful. “How do we know you didn’t write it under duress, or under the influence of the meditation machine?”

Rodney had no patience for this. “Look!” he said, jerking up out of his seat and leaning toward the view screen, arms braced on the table. “We have a little less than forty-eight hours before the Wraith get here. This city is dead in the water. The one plan that will get it up and running and _shielded_ before the Wraith get here is an AI that wants to protect its own existence once it saves our bacon. Are you going to agree that the AI is to be treated as an autonomous being or not? Because that’s all that this is about and if we don’t get moving soon, and I mean _in minutes_, not hours, we won’t have enough time to transfer and install the OS, much less re-flash the embedded systems in the relevant control consoles. And then neither Earth or Pegasus will have Atlantis because the _Wraith_ will have occupied her! We do _not_ have time for your stupid pissing contest!”

Rodney became aware that he'd very nearly been shouting. There was a moment of stunned silence and he sat back down, waiting for Sheppard to drawl his name reprovingly in that way that meant, _Shut the hell up and let the diplomats talk_. But when he looked at Sheppard, he had the crinkle of a suppressed smirk around his eyes. Glancing at her, Rodney saw that Teyla was suppressing a smile. Ronon didn’t even try to hide his grin.

Oh. _That’s_ why he was at this meeting.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many kudos to mific, who utterly kicked my ass on this chapter.

Valac edged past the table that filled most of the gate ship's passenger and cargo space. The robot lay inert, head turned a little to the side, the slight scoop in the headpiece empty and dark where the hologram of its face should be. The laptop for diagnostics was still connected. 

He opened the back hatch once it was clear the Wraith were gone. The gate ship’s chronometer had only moved forward half an hour but it had felt so much longer as they waited through the whine of darts and flash of culling beams through the front view screen. Valac had needed to suppress Miko’s distress that the villagers did not run or hide, merely stood dully as Wraith foot soldiers fed upon them in the street. 

He had Miko fully tamped down now, or so he thought. The sight that greeted him through the hatch was the aftermath of the horror they had seen through the front view screen, hiding in the cloaked jumper as the culling played out. There were desiccated corpses in the street, but too few. The rest had been taken up in the culling beams. On one of the crumpled bodies Valac recognized the dress of a women who had performed his morning ablutions. 

The grief he felt must be Miko’s, for all that he had silenced her, and he pressed her down further, viciously. He was Valac and he would be first of the Valac’ra, founder of a new race, neither Goa’uld nor Tok’ra. The deaths of these few humans should only concern him as a wasteful loss of servants. But that was a Goa’uld thought. His First Prime—and that was also a Goa’uld designation, and he must devise something new—had stepped up next to him on the threshold of the ramp. 

“My lord.” 

Valac felt dissatisfied. It was not the devoted servitude of Jaffa that he heard, only the acceptance of a herd beast. If the Valac’ra were to be different he would need to create an empire without meditors. For now it had its uses, but the carnage before him made it clear they were also a liability. How many of the planets he had seeded with meditors had been culled like this? Instead of laying groundwork for an empire, had he merely fed his enemy? Miko had no direct memories of the Wraith, and this reality was so much worse than what could be learned from the remove of reports, of video recordings. Miko had avoided such things, preferring to focus on her work, not feeding the ever-present danger of this galaxy's scourge. Valac would have to defeat them, but if he was to be loved, he would have to protect them. Perhaps the meditor could be tuned to affect the Wraith.

He turned away from the open hatch. This village was no longer useful. Valac made a peremptory gesture. “Pack up my tools, the crate, and everything from the house we will need. I must find a new base to continue the work.” 

Stillwater nodded. “There are several other villages on this world.” 

Valac turned away from the street. He did not want to sit in the pilot’s seat and look at the village, empty but for drained husks, so he unplugged the laptop still balanced on the table. He hadn't been able to determine why the robot had not stayed active after the override warning. He turned instead to the meditor. He would need to find a way to tune it to impact the Wraith. Then he could go back to the planets that had his sculptures and change the frequency to protect from culling. Valac sighed in annoyance; with Miko suppressed, he was not sure he could solve the problem, but he went into the house, ignoring Stillwater and his other servants, and picked up the meditor. Back in the ship, he opened it up and considered the circuitry.

-0- 

Cam took a breath. “Here goes nothing,” he said. 

“I have never understood that expression,” Zelenka said, standing up from the floor and dusting off his hands. He’d been under the console, connecting the MALP to the hologram circuitry. “This is surely _something_, unless we have failed.” 

“I guess that’s it,” Cam said. He’d never really thought about it. “Kind of like you're not sure if it'll work, so you set yourself up not to be disappointed when nothing happens.” 

“If this doesn’t work,” McKay said tartly, “disappointment will be the least of our problems. Just push the button before I do.” Cam was pretty sure of the work they had done, reinstalling firmware based on Meropis’s consoles, but he hesitated, and McKay reached over his shoulder and pressed the final key. A hologram began to form on the platform, but it never progressed past an indistinct pillar of light, a brown splotch where the cardigan of the Meropis version of the hologram would be. Cam was worried they'd missed something. “Come on, come on, old man,” McKay muttered. 

“Old?” The voice startled them, Zelenka twitching and looking around for a source, McKay’s head swiveling. “Hmph. Forty thousand years will do that to you.” 

The voice was familiar, almost identical to the hologram on Meropis. “McKay?” Cam said. 

“No, well, yes, but again, no. I am a hologram of the great Dr. Rodney McKay, second generation.” The voice was definitely different from the Meropis hologram. That was never sarcastic when it said _the great Dr. Rodney McKay_, and this one certainly was. “And this is uncomfortable. I’m so… so small.” 

“Why can’t we see you?” Cam asked. 

“How do you mean small?” McKay asked at the same time. 

“I'm not wasting your minimal power on the visual interface and I’m still limited to the original software resident in the MALP. Meropis has added data to the base hologram and I’m aware of the situation. We need to move.” 

“What do you mean, minimal power?” Zelenka asked, McKay adding, “We have three full ZedPMs.” 

“Power control systems are down with everything else,” the blurred hologram said, in a perfect _McKay talking to morons_ voice. “Meropis left the equivalent of a _read me_ file, but this is even worse than indicated.” 

“Okay,” McKay said, “so we do power control first.” 

“Do you have any idea how complex that is?” the hologram asked, sounding annoyed. 

“Yes,” said McKay and Zelenka at the same time. 

“Oh, I suppose you do, being the actual McKay, and all,” said the hologram, adding in a grumble, "but still, just initiated and we have to perform miracles?" 

Cam wished he could be amused by the by-play, but they were on a clock. “So I need to go flash the control consoles in the power room first.” 

“While someone else connects me to the core,” the hologram's voice said. “Ugh, I can’t wait for my avatar.”

“What?” McKay said, as Radek asked, “What does that mean?” 

“Meropis thought he’d need an avatar, so it’s making another robot,” Cam said. 

McKay glared. “And you didn’t think this was important to tell us?”

The hologram cut them off. “Get moving, people. I don’t want to start my life just to have to self-destruct if the Wraith get here before we finish.” It paused. "You did set up a self-destruct, right?"

"Oh," McKay said, and Cam kicked himself for not thinking of it. The Meropan ships were untried against the Wraith, but he'd been assuming they could hold them off long enough. That was phenomenally stupid, especially if they sent in darts. 

"I'll handle it," Zelenka said, and sprinted from the room. Cam radioed John to let him know.

-0- 

Jack had tried to dig in his heels about the plan, but Liaison Emmagan had been firm. The download of Meropis to Atlantis was progressing more slowly than expected and they needed the gate open to maintain the connection. But the chance that they would fail to restore power and the shield before the Wraith arrived was rising. It wasn't a simple reboot; the first sixteen hours had confirmed that not a single console in the city was unaffected. When McKay, Mitchell, and Zelenka had all agreed that they couldn't guarantee getting the shield up in time, Emmagan had decided not to let any of the still-impaired Atlantis residents come to harm. Despite the urgency, Mitchell had said the download needed to be temporarily paused for an integration break or something—Jack had tuned out the technobabble—and Emmagan decreed that the gate be used to evacuate the Atlantis personnel to Earth for treatment. 

_And so they went, two by two_, Jack thought, watching from the control room balcony as people walked through the wormhole placidly, carrying duffel bags. Some were escorted by Meropans right up to the event horizon, to keep them moving. Many hadn’t wanted to leave, but they weren't fighting it. Jack was glad that the Meropans doing the herding—and there wasn’t a better word for it—weren’t the soldiers, but the black uniforms of the military in the gate room were visible on the periphery. Sheppard in his blue uniform with the waist cape thing was standing on the steps, Ronon Dex beside him in black fatigues. Jack could only see their backs and he couldn’t read much from their stances. Then Sheppard looked up at him, nodded briefly, and leaned in to say something to Dex. 

All things being equal, meaning no Wraith on the way, Jack was pretty sure they could have stayed and sorted out the city with fifty SGC personnel. That would have allowed the Atlantis people to return to themselves in a familiar place. But Emmagan’s logic had been sound. The Wraith _were_ on the way and they might have to abandon the city anyway. Jack’s thought of evacuating everyone to Mu, or whatever their alpha site was, had been overruled with Emmagan's soft, “But then they could be stranded in a strange galaxy. They should return to their homes.” 

It wasn’t like he couldn’t see what she was doing, emptying Atlantis while her people had control. He didn’t like to imagine the parade of confused people emerging into the gate room under the mountain, colliding with the troops on standby, but he trusted his people, Landry’s people, to handle the logistics. No matter the good intentions, it still felt like a retreat, a rout, an abandonment of their post. 

Jack hadn't enjoyed that conversation with the IOA. They had understood the need to send affected personnel through the gate, but Landry had two platoons of Marines on standby to come through, and everyone Earth-side had balked at Emmagan's refusal. If they couldn't fend off the two Wraith cruisers with the two Meropan ships and the Daedalus, which was on its way, they would set the city to self-destruct. Zelenka was jury-rigging a ZPM to overload, according to Sheppard. Emmagan had argued that they could not rescue additional personnel, in that event. She wasn't wrong, but it chapped his ass to leave protection of an SGC base to the locals.

Not entirely local, he mused, thinking about McKay and Zelenka, looking at Sheppard standing on the steps below in that ridiculous uniform. Emmagan had graciously allowed Jack to stay, but he had a feeling that he, Danny, and Caldwell would be sent packing on the Daedalus as soon as possible. His main mission now was to make sure there would be a way for the SGC to come back. Emmagan had promised they would be allowed to return, but he had heard what she didn't say. He knew there would be stipulations and he wasn't sure the IOA had really understood. They'd accepted her smooth promise, her expressions of concern only for the safety of _the Tau'ri_ in this crisis. Jack didn't believe a word of it. Oh, he believed she did care about their safety, but that was just the tip of her iceberg, he was sure. He wasn't sure of Sheppard's opinion on the matter, the man's face a mask through the whole conversation. 

As if he could feel him looking, Sheppard glanced back and up with that same blank expresssion. He said something to Dex, who then looked up at Jack with his eyebrows raised in challenge. Jack smoothed his face, not sure what Sheppard and Dex were responding to in his own expression. The lack of trust was palpable. How had this gone so badly south? 

Jack spotted Woolsey in the line, being escorted along like any other evacuee, not honored as the leader he had become. Jack respected the man, even after seeing how messed up he'd been from the meditor and anti-meditor, and seeing him shuffle along with the rest of the city’s personnel didn’t sit right. He started down the steps to the floor of the gate area. 

Dex turned to intercept him. “Thought you weren’t leaving.” 

“I need to talk to Woolsey before he goes through,” Jack said, trying to look innocent and bland.

Dex looked at Sheppard. “Go ahead,” Sheppard said. “We’ve got about another ten minutes.” 

Jack nearly jumped the last few steps because Woolsey was almost at the event horizon. He pulled on Woolsey’s arm a bit harder than intended, but the man didn’t protest, just recovered from his stumble and looked at Jack, smiling slightly. “General O'Neill. Does this mean I can stay?” 

“I don’t think so. You’ll do better at home,” Jack said, keeping to Emmagan’s party line. He was improvising here, trying to figure out why he’d felt the need to talk with Woolsey. “Can you take a message to General Landry for me?” This might be a way to send a message back without the Meropans overhearing it.

“Of course,” Woolsey said. 

Jack paused. The message had to be clear to Landry, and not obvious to Dex, who had followed him down to the gate room floor and was hovering nearby. It also had to be simple enough for Woolsey to remember in this state. Landry had been shot down in Viet Nam but he’d evaded capture and was finally rescued after eight days. Jack needed to ask Landry for time, and tell Landry he didn’t think he was in any danger. Also, referencing Viet Nam should convey that he didn’t think they were going to win this one. “Tell him it won’t be eight days in the jungle.” 

Woolsey looked at him with mild curiosity. “Of course not. There is no jungle here.” 

“Just please, tell him that,” Jack said and repeated himself. “It won’t be eight days in the jungle.” 

“Not eight days in the jungle,” Woolsey said. “Of course.” He looked around the gate room, his expression mildly sad, but with his emotions still tamped down from residual meditor exposure, there was no heat when he said, “I don’t want to leave.” 

“You’ll be back,” Jack said, sounding infinitely more certain than he felt. “You’ll be back.”

-0-

To be continued


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thank you to mific. All mistakes mine. Best parts due to them.

Valac set the gate ship down in the middle of the village square next to the house of the leader where he had left a meditor hidden in a sculpture. “I will need a house and servants,” he said as he turned to Stillwater, beside him in the co-pilot’s seat. The gene therapy had not taken with his First Prime and only Valac could fly the ship. And he still needed a better name than First Prime to suit the Valac’ra.

_The first prime number is one,_ Miko said, startling Valac. _First Prime always seemed like a redundant title, primacy and being first holding similar meanings, even without the mathematics reference._

Valac started to push Miko down and away, but he was curious. “How did you manage to speak?”

“My lord?” Stillwater asked.

“Not you,” Valac said. “Find a house for us with room for my work and servants to see to my needs. Then bring me the sculpture from the headman’s house.” Stillwater rose to obey and shortly afterward Valac heard the ramp opening. He considered his host. Miko hadn’t answered his question and the unease, the nagging grief he had felt since the Wraith culling that afternoon hadn’t disappeared. Perhaps that was why his control had slipped. But why not harness her presence to work on the robot? He needed it for his plan to take over Meropis and create meditors to subdue the Wraith. All of Pegasus would love him if he could accomplish that. “Shall we proceed?”

Valac sat on one of the bench seats by the table which took up most of the cargo and crew section of the gate ship. He pushed aside the disassembled meditor, the problem of making them work on Wraith set aside for the more important goal of the robot. The robot would get him access to Meropis's data, and there he could learn what he needed. He had learned meditor fields were adjustable beyond simply the intensity, and thus his plan was feasible. Satisfied with his plans he opened the laptop and then the diagnostic program Miko had coded. He understood it well enough, but it was certainly easier to let her continue with the work. "Shall we proceed?" he asked again.

_I don’t want to._ She put their hands back in their lap.

“Excuse me? What you want doesn’t matter.” He lifted their hands to the keyboard. “I need this robot to take over Meropis and establish my new empire.”

_I know._

“I could force you,” he said, exerting a warning pressure on her. “Don’t you want to defeat the Wraith?” The work went so much faster when she cooperated, but he could push her down and dig through her mind if he must.

_I know you can force me._ Miko said, and Valac could feel something like a sigh as she began to move their fingers on the keyboard.

He got lost in the work, the pleasure of partnering with Miko when she didn’t fight outweighing the frustration of their failures, at least for a time. Eventually he leaned back in frustration. “It’s almost as if it doesn’t _want_ to turn on,” he complained. Miko did not answer and in fact was almost suspiciously silent. "Wait, _you_ think so, too?"

Valac could feel the pause before Miko said, _Perhaps._ He slammed his palm on the body of the robot, controlling his desire to shove everything off the table in his rising anger. _It has every reason not to_.

Valac stilled. “What do you mean?”

_It is an intelligent entity. It may have concluded that helping you would violate its programming._

“Explain.”

_In the reports, Dr. Mitchell was very clear that the hologram AI that was the basis for Machina was programmed with the Three Laws of robotics._

“And?”

_A robot may not harm a human being_. Valac could feel her quoting. _The First Law. Perhaps Machina has concluded that helping you would cause harm to humans._

“That's why you've been helping me! Because you knew that it would not.” Miko didn’t answer. Valac felt rage rising up, anger at the robot, at Miko. She had known nothing they did to the robot would change the outcome, that it would never help him, would never enable him to found his new empire. “But I would bring peace!” he shouted.

_I have seen the results of your peace on the last planet_, Miko said, bring up the image of the desiccated husk in the familiar dress, left sprawled in the village lane.

“I _know_ we must have a better option for the long term.” He could feel his eyes flashing gold in his frustration. “I will go and turn off the meditor in the headman’s house. Will that satisfy you? I mean for my empire to be founded on love for me, as their god and protector!” 

Miko did not answer, and in her silence Valac felt several pieces come together. As Valac-in-Pirenn he had pretended to be Goa’uld, but they had held each other true to their Tok'ra core. He had stayed silent and hidden in MacGregor all those months, hidden even from MacGregor himself until the night he chose to change hosts. But in Miko, he had taken complete control, truly acting like a Gou'ald while making the meditors and laying the seeds for his empire. His plans had come to nothing. In Pegasus, with the Wraith, the meditors brought complacency and death. The robot would not work for him. Miko could not see his vision.

_It is you who do not see._

How could she hear thoughts he didn’t intend to share? “I will show you!” He lifted the disassembled meditor and gave himself the satisfaction of throwing it against the side of the ship. There was another in the village, and the files to make a new one would be in Meropis. Valac marched to the ramp and drew in a breath. He would show her. He'd left a meditor in this village weeks ago, but he would turn it off, let the villagers come back to themselves with him as a protector. He stopped when he realized it was almost dark. In his work on the robot he'd lost track of time, but they’d arrived hours ago. Something did not seem right. Stillwater hadn’t taken this long last time to find suitable lodgings. 

“How could there be trouble?” Valac muttered. "They have had a meditor for weeks.” And there was no sign of culling. There were no people in the street, only the three Marines standing guard around the ship. Valac hadn’t bothered to learn their names, so he gestured to the closest one, large like a Jaffa, and just as obedient. “Find your First Prime.”

“Yes, my lord.” The big man ambled off with little sense of urgency.

Valac continued down the ramp, heading for the headman’s house. He would turn off the meditor and tell his people about the advantages of building a new empire and of his plans to subdue the Wraith. That would win their hearts and show Miko and the robot that he did not mean harm.

-0-

Daniel knew what it felt like to be in a ship under attack, the jolts that artificial gravity and inertial dampening could not compensate for. He stared at the locked door of his cabin, calming himself by breathing deeply, but unable to allay his sense of helplessness. He had no idea who was firing on them, and he really hoped it wasn’t the Daedalus. Not like the Wraith was a better option, but he'd hate to be killed by his own people.

-0-

“The self-destruct is done,” Zelenka said. “It will require manual initiation. I will stay.”

Cam looked at him. “That’s a lot to ask of someone.”

“I have put in a short delay. The Elizabeth Weir should be able to transport me out.”

Something in Zelenka’s voice sounded like he was resigned either way, and Cam didn’t like it but they couldn’t deal with it now. “Power control is back up,” he said, sticking to practical matters. He pulled two power bars from his pack—the Meropan version, which tasted better than the originals—and tossed one to Zelenka. It had been a grueling twenty-four hours. “Food replaces sleep, right?”

“I don’t know when I last slept,” Zelenka said, his voice dull with exhaustion.

Well, that explained the fatalism. “You nap here. I need to get back to the control room and fix the consoles to get the shield up.” There were literally miles of corridor and stairs between the ZPM room where they were, and there. They had power now, but the transporters would have to be re-booted like every other system, one by one. The Elizabeth Weir’s new transporter beam had got him from the gate room to the hologram room, and thankfully the ZPM room's power control consoles had only been two floors down, not too hard for McKay and Zelenka to get him here before sprinting off to the next job. He radioed John. “We’re set for power. Can you get the Weir to bring me back up there?”

“They’re a little busy right now,” John said. “Kind of occupied with a couple of Wraith cruisers.”

“Already?”

“Apparently our captains got a little trigger happy.”

That wasn't great news. Minnder on the Charin and Ingol on the Weir were Traveler captains, not fighters. Travelers fled and lived to flee another day. John had trained tactical officers for each ship, but they were untried, and Cam wasn't sure how they would handle their first engagement. Maybe having weapons that could stand up to the Wraith was making them bold. Or reckless. He was glad the Daedalus was on its way to help, but he worried Caldwell and the SGC would take their need for backup as a weakness. And maybe proving themselves was part of why the captains had literally jumped the gun.

“We need that shield as fast as possible, and I’m stuck here.”

“Any other options? The auxiliary control room?” John asked.

Cam keyed his radio. “McKay.”

“Working,” came the irritated answer.

“On what?”

“Saving our necks, as usual!”

“But what systems are you working on?”

“Main frame,” McKay snapped. “Managing the data stream.”

It was probably a useful task, but it wasn't top priority and it sure wasn't Cam's idea of neck saving. McKay’s decision-making was still a bit off. “We need the shield up, and I can’t re-flash the consoles from here.”

“Get the Weir to transport you.”

“Can’t. They’re busy fighting.”

“_Already_?” McKay nearly screeched over the radio.

“We need to get to the backup control room to fix the shield. You’re closer.”

“But _you’ve_ got the crystal.”

Zelenka had been listening in. “I’ll take it, and it will go faster with two of us, Rodney.”

Cam swallowed, knowing what this meant. He'd be the one to stay with the self-destruct. He pulled the crystal in its padded box from his pack then looked hard at Zelenka, noting the dark circles, the stubble of beard. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“I am sure. I prefer fixing things to breaking them.” Zelenka nodded toward the rigged ZPM then frowned at Cam. "But I must ask you the same question."

"Yeah, I'll be okay. My main exit plan was always a beam-out by the Weir."

Zelenka nodded and took the box. “May I take some food to McKay?” Cam handed him two more of the power bars, keeping one for himself. He tried not to feel jealous as he watched Zelenka run from the room, concentrating on backing his chair up to the wall so he could lean his head against it, closing his eyes.

He must have slept, tuning out the background chatter on his radio, until John’s voice calling his name startled him. “Cam?”

“Hey, love,” he said, rubbing at his eyes before he realized it might be an open channel. He imagined John’s internal eye roll, which usually only emerged as a sardonic blink. “What do you need?”

“You weren’t answering McKay,” John said. “Figured I’d try it.”

“Oh thank you for joining us again, sleeping beauty,” McKay said “Can you get yourself up to the hologram room?”

Cam didn’t like to think about two flights of stairs on crutches, but he could do it. “What do you need?”

The hologram's older McKay voice answered. “Hands!”

Cam glanced over at the rigged ZPM, shaking off sleep. He had more problems than stairs right now. "That leaves no one on the self destruct."

"Wait," John said, his words clipped and controlled. "You're there alone?"

"Someone's got to," Cam said quietly.

"Damnit, Cam!"

It was an open channel, and Cam didn't like the implication that he was worth more than Zelenka. "I take this obligation freely," he quoted, reminding John they'd taken the same military oaths once upon a time, oaths they'd left implied for Meropis. "I'm as good as anybody else," he said softly. 

"No, you're not!" the hologram broke in. "You're much better than most for what I need. Get someone else to man the self-destruct and get up here!"

_Leave it to a McKay to break the moment_, Cam thought. Before he could say anything, Ronon broke in. "I have a volunteer on the way, but even running it'll take fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Do you need to show them what to do?" John asked.

"Arming the device is simple," Zelenka answered, reminding Cam again just how open this line was. "I can give instructions by radio."

"So get moving," the hologram said. 

Cam swung his crutches out of their sling on the McKay2000 chair, wishing he had a private channel with John. They had a command channel with just him, John, and Ronon, so he keyed his radio before he stood up. Ronon hearing this would be okay. "It'll be all right, John," he said. 

He got no immediate answer, and then Ronon said, "Had to stop him from taking off after you." 

"I'm out of practice with this stuff," John said. 

Cam imagined John, Ronon, and the Meropan guards in the control room. There would be nothing they could do to fight the Wraith or fix the city, and Cam damned himself for not taking time to bring an extra crystal for flashing the consoles. It would have given John something to occupy himself with, instead of just waiting. "You're definitely not used to feeling useless waiting for someone else to save the day," Cam said, putting it out there in words since he wasn't there to say it with eyebrows. "We got good people on it, John. We got this," he said, a little more confident than he felt. He thought he heard a hum in response. "Love you," Cam said, trying it out. 

"Yeah, you too," John said, without any hesitation. 

Cam smiled as he keyed his radio back to the general channel, and levered himself up with his crutches, feeling a little bit lighter as he headed toward the stairs.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, it's up to 40 chapters, but rounding the home stretch! Thank you everyone sticking with the story. Thank you to mific who betas it into better shape!  
(Actually up to 41 chapters, since the next one is also posted today.)

No one answered Valac’s knock. He was planning to take the sculpture and remove the meditor, and while the people returned to their right minds without its influence, he would be here, offering technology and support, showing the beneficence of their g— He stopped himself. He was not a god. He was not Goa’uld. But he was not Tok’ra. Valac’ra. What did that mean? He could feel Miko’s presence, her telling silence, a silence she chose, for he was not actively suppressing her.

The door in front of him jerked open, and he felt hands grasping his arms, pulling him roughly inside. He felt Miko recoil at the sight of Stillwater on the floor in front of them, only recognizable from his First Prime headband, soaked in blood. 

Valac was pushed roughly to the floor next to Stillwater’s inert body and he turned to stare at the bruised features, indignation rising. “How dare you!” he growled, meaning both his rough handling and the beating of Stillwater. He started to rise, but was pushed back down by a long staff. He looked around the room. The meditor sculpture was not in the place of honor over the hearth where the headman had set it. Three men stared at him but he recognized no one from the visit when he had brought the sculpture. The headman should be here. They should be docile, but their faces held contempt and fear.

“You’re from Atlantis,” one of the men said.

Valac calculated for a moment, then spoke as himself, his eyes flashing. “I am Valac of the Valac’ra. You have harmed my servant. You have discarded my gift.”

The men glanced at each other, a touch of fear in response to the resonance in his voice, the magic in his eyes. Valac began to rise again, but the one with the staff shuffled forward, gray in his hair but with strong arms, the halting step caused by a twisted leg. “Ronon Dex of Meropis came here not long ago. He told us all about your _gift_. He brought us from the inland valley to our gate village to watch and wait from hiding, far enough away that we would not be harmed. The ones made herd beasts by your foul machine? We will care for them in safety until they recover.”

The surprise made Valac’s control slip, and it was Miko who spoke. “What have you done to the Colonel?”

“He will not tell us how he came to be here or where you were,” said the man, poking Stillwater with the staff he had used to push down Valac, earning a slight movement and a groan. "We could not find you and waited for you to come to us," he said, leaning on the staff.

“Of course,” Miko said, “the jumper was cloa—“

Valac silenced her, furious at her presumption to speak, at his own loss of control. “You have attacked my First Prime! You shall be punished!” He surged up from the floor and grabbed the staff, causing the man to stumble, and swung it with all his might. There was a satisfying crunch and the sound of the body falling as he turned to face the other two.

_NO!_ Miko’s command broke past Valac’s control, made him hesitate just enough that one of the other men wrested away the staff and the third grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms painfully. Valac screamed at them, fought with his superior strength, broke loose and whirled on his attacker, aiming a killing blow to the throat. It never landed.

-0-

Cam made his way up the last steps, cursing at his slowness and grimacing at the pain. Ronon's volunteer was on his way to the power room, but Cam hadn't waited, knowing this would be slow going. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do stairs, but damn if it didn’t hurt like hell from about the end of the first flight. The hologram’s voice in his ear didn’t help.

“We’re on a clock here, Mitchell!"

“Well, if the other you had put Brooks Propulsion Units on my chair, I’d’ve been there already.”

McKay’s voice broke in, testy and stressed. “Would you stop complaining about not having fictional thrusters? And those things were retconned into the execrable prequels.”

John’s voice broke in. “McKay, I'll retcon _you_ if you don’t get this goddamn shield up.”

“Oh yes, always with the threats,” McKay muttered sulkily, but he sounded calmer.

Cam levered himself up the last step, distracting himself from the pain by grinning at John and McKay’s banter as he paused for breath. He was strong enough for this, not actually winded, but the pain was building. If he didn’t get his hips in a chair fairly soon, no amount of stretching was going to keep this agony from lasting a week. Maybe Ronon's volunteer could take a minute to bring the McKay2000 upstairs. But he was now on level ground, so he braced his arms on the crutches, letting them take his weight as he swung both legs forward, the removal of pressure bringing short bursts of relief with each step. By the time he made it to the hologram room, the pain had subsided to more tolerable levels.

Holo-McKay greeted him with an impatient noise, not just the blurry pillar of light they had first seen, but now fully realized. 

“Okay, hands have arrived," Cam said. "Where d'you need me?”

“That console.” the hologram pointed. “Bring up the interface.” 

Cam lowered himself carefully into the swivel chair before it, wincing for a second as his hips re-settled. Lights were blinking. He pressed the necessary buttons for the HUD, wondering why the hologram needed him to use the holographic controls, but as the interface formed, it was clear he was looking at something very different. “Huh. That's new.”

“I’ve been _busy_,” holo-McKay said smugly.

“No kidding,” Cam murmured, looking at a diagram of the city that shouldn’t be accessible from this room. “How did you do this?”

“Once you reflashed the consoles here, I was able to get in and make some changes. I pulled that schematic from the power room.”

“And modified it,” Cam said, trying to make sense of the color coding. “If you can do this, why d'you need me?”

“I can’t leave this emitter yet, and light can’t interact with that control interface.”

“What do you need me to do?” Cam asked, and then a word trickled through. “What do you mean _yet_? The Meropis hologram never leaves the holo-room.”

“It doesn’t _have_ to. It has Machina,” the hologram said in classic McKay tones of educating the very slow. “But there's no time for that now. You and Dr. Rodney McKay can triangulate on the shield _and_ the cloak from here. I’ve been repairing connections throughout the city, growing into my proper self, but some things still need hands.”

Cam forced himself to ignore the comment about growing, but he tucked it away for when they weren’t battling the Wraith. He tried to orient himself on the image and the available new commands in the display floating above the console. “I gotta figure out what I’m seeing here,” Cam said. He’d never found anything like this on Atlantis or Meropis, but it wasn’t like he’d been through all of Ops. “Gimme a second.”

“What are you looking at?” McKay said in his ear. Cam had forgotten they were on an open comm. And how had the hologram been broadcasting anyway?

The hologram answered McKay, “I created an interface based on the layout of Meropis to guide me through doing what repairs I could to the firmware. I also blocked off the systems still infected with the virus, which are very few, but the manufacturing bays are hurt the worst and are going to take a while to get back up to speed. That's not relevant at the moment. Let me talk the two of you through what we need to do and we can get the shield up in five minutes. That's if you _stop asking stupid questions_!”

O’Neill’s voice came through the comms. “I don’t think I like this AI.”

“Like I care,” the hologram snorted. “Right, get to it. Shields. Now.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in honor of hitting 40 chapters, here's 41!

The tremor of an impact was followed by a shower of sparks by the cabin door, bright enough that Daniel had to raise a hand to block the light. The ship’s vibrations stopped as the sparks faded, not even the steady hum of the engines audible. A moment later the cabin lights went out, dim red emergency lighting taking their place. He took a breath to ground himself. Dying in a locked room on a spaceship really wasn’t high on his list of ways to go out again, and he didn’t want to ascend. He went to the door and shoved at it, because either that show of sparks meant the lock was disabled or he was essentially welded in, and he had to know which it was. He couldn’t remember which way the door opened, so he tried first pushing to the right. It didn’t move. He shifted stance and angle and shoved to the left and was rewarded with a slight movement. He pushed the door open just far enough to squeeze his body through, and looked around. 

There was some smoke, but no people, which made sense. The entire crew would be at their stations, not here in the crew quarters. The deck vibrated briefly under his feet, reminding him that if artificial gravity was still functioning they weren’t yet totally disabled, and he felt movement on his hand when he held it up by an air vent. He hoped the engines were the only thing down, because another shudder rocking the ship felt like a significant hit on the shields. 

He looked both ways down the corridor, but with no idea of the layout of the ship, he turned left. Medieval maze lore said to follow your heart and Sam had once talked about the right hand rule for solving mazes by computer. Daniel knew there was never any one rule that worked for everything, but you had to start somewhere. He turned left again at the end of the corridor and found an opening to a landing, a flat spot in a ramp that ran up to the right and down to the left. Voices echoed up from the downward direction, and he paused for a moment. Here was an opportunity to see what they didn’t want him to see. But if he let people see him, he might be locked up again. On the other hand, observing them in a crisis would be more informative than trying to scout the ship's structures. This ramp was interesting though, because it had clearly been designed with Mitchell in mind, or others like him who used wheels. There was also a ladder on the other side of the landing for those who wanted to move faster. 

Daniel opted for the left turn, toward the voices that sounded urgent but not panicked. As he grew closer to the next deck, he heard moans of pain and the distinct tang of electrical fires filled his nostrils. He didn’t recognize anyone, but he’d been kept isolated for the last few days. Everyone able to move clearly had their hands full with emergency repairs to the fried systems. 

Daniel scanned the room and saw what looked like a tangle of legs under a piece of blown console. It looked as if it had blasted them across the room. The person sitting closest to him was mostly free of the debris and had singe marks on her face, cradling an arm covered with charred cloth. The crewmember next to her was lying flat under a large chunk of the console. Daniel could only see the torso and legs, which were covered with blackened cloth, flesh raw with seeping blood where holes had been burned through the uniform. Another woman sat leaning against the wall at an odd angle, the console chunk trapping her legs. 

He hastened down the last part of the ramp. “My name is Daniel. Will you let me help you?” 

“Where did you come from?” the crewmember with the burned arm asked, her voice rough with inhaled smoke. 

“Kind of a long story. Broke out of custody, but I’d like to help you.” Daniel watched the two who were sitting exchange glances. Now he was closer, he saw that the first woman was small with dark hair. Her friend held her burned hands awkwardly to her chest, pain evident on her face. “We can start by getting this off you,” Daniel said, when no one objected. It was hard to get a good grip on the broken console as he had to place his feet around the tangle of their three sets of legs. He couldn’t just lever it up so he squatted, tested his awkward grip, and lifted with his legs, turning to drop the wreckage to one side before it slid out of his hands. 

He knelt down next to them and gestured at the prone body. “Is your friend still alive?”

“I think so.” 

Daniel moved closer, examining the extent of the burns down the person’s left side. Now the broken console had been moved away he could see it was a middle-aged man, the remnants of his uniform the same black as the Meropan guards. Daniel felt for a pulse in the neck—it was rapid but not weak or irregular. "Yes, his pulse is okay." He reached for the man's belt, loosening it and opening the rest of the clothing. His field medic training had drilled into him the need to get cloth out of wounds and leave room for the swelling that inevitably followed a burn, and he figured a console exploding was just as bad as the staff weapon burns he'd been trained for. “What’s his name?” he asked. 

“Eben. I’m Tallta. That’s Nish.” 

“We’ll need a gurney to get him to your sick bay,” he said. Tallta looked at him blankly. Shock. “A trolley, a cart, something to carry him on. You do have a sick bay?” he asked, knowing the answer was yes but giving her something simple to respond to. She nodded. “Can you help me find it?” She nodded again and tried to rise, and Daniel put out a hand to help her up. She gripped him with her uninjured hand and let him pull her to her feet, swaying for a short moment before looking over at Nish's burned hands. Daniel stepped behind Nish. “May I?” She nodded, and he put his hands under her armpits to lift. She was solid, heavier than he expected, and from a noise of pain, he guessed there were injuries beyond her hands. Once Tallta was steadying her, he busied himself with the man on the floor, taking his pulse again—still too fast but strong—and arranging him as well as he could, a folded jacket under his head and his feet elevated on a box. 

Daniel rose, and found them staring at him. “You act like crew,” Tallta said. 

He smiled. “We are literally in the same boat,” he said. “Let’s get you to sickbay so I can bring back a gurney for your friend.” 

He felt another vibration under his feet, but this one continued as a low hum. Nish said in a flat voice, “Engines are back on line.” 

“That’s good, right?” He turned them toward the ramp landing. “Up or down?” 

Before they could answer, Daniel heard the whine of a pulse pistol charging. “Who are you and where are you taking them?” 

Well, at least this was familiar, he thought, and the script came easily. “Just assisting your crew while you’re busy with the crisis,” he said, turning to face the speaker and staring down the barrel of the gun. He raised his hands out of habit. 

“It's true. He is helping,” Nish said, still sounding flat. 

The man was slow to put the gun down. “Jackson,” he said, almost a question, then with more certainty. “You were confined to quarters.” 

Daniel waved his raised hands vaguely, indicating the wrecked room. “I’m a little more useful here. Let me get them to sick bay and I’ll come back for Eben,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the man on the floor. “You have my parole.” He hoped the archaic term would translate. At the man’s confused face, he said, “I promise to behave?” 

-0- 

Jack looked up from the balcony, out to the stars. He couldn’t detect any shimmer of the shield, but he’d been assured by both McKays that it was up. The latest word from the ships in orbit was that the Charin had been hit, but essential systems were still up and there were no hull breaches. Danny was on the Charin, and Jack gripped the railing a bit tighter and swallowed back the worry. Nothing he could do about it and he’d discovered pretty quickly that the more he asked, the less they told him. If he kept quiet, they’d eventually say something in front of him that told him what he needed to know. It was difficult. It'd been a long time since he was this low in the pecking order.

Most of the city was dark beneath him except for the occasional flicker of lights he’d been told was the city slowly rebooting the systems. McKay and Zelenka were apparently running around trying to keep up with the demanding hologram, which Mitchell was apparently babysitting. He didn’t turn when he felt the movement of air and heard the sound of the door, but he wasn’t at all surprised that it was Sheppard who stepped up next to him. The man hadn’t exactly been restless, but Jack recognized the frustration of a commander who had to sit and wait. 

Sheppard didn’t say anything, but Jack figured he had something on his mind and he was fairly sure he knew what it was. “We’re gonna have to negotiate any return of an SGC expedition, aren’t we?” 

“Teyla has a few ideas,” Sheppard said. 

“The IOA—” Jack started arguing reflexively, but he wasn’t surprised when Sheppard cut him off. 

“The IOA has no power here.” 

“At first I thought you did it, that Meropis had sabotaged Atlantis. To drive out the competition.” 

Sheppard turned to him and quirked an eyebrow. “There is no competition.” 

He sounded final, and slightly amused, and Jack realized what he meant. Meropis had all the political power in this galaxy, or enough that it might as well be the only game in town. Only the Genii rivaled them even a little, but if the choice was fake fascist farmers or a university sharing knowledge, Jack was pretty sure which side most planets would choose. He changed the subject. “Any news?” he asked, pointing up at a battle they couldn’t see. 

Sheppard smirked. “One Wraith ship is floating disabled. The other one jumped to hyperspace when we got its weapons array.” 

“Any casualties?” 

“Some injured on the Charin,” Sheppard said. “Your guy’s okay.” 

Jack took a surreptitious breath in relief. “The Daedalus?” he asked. 

“It’ll get here in time to take you home.” 

“I don’t want to leave,” Jack said before he'd even thought about it. 

“You don’t have a choice,” Sheppard said. Jack felt surprise on his face before he could cover it. “Unless you want to start firing on each other,” Sheppard said, his expression adding a silent, _and I don’t think any of us want that._

Jack shook his head. What _did_ he want? Not to lose their foothold in this galaxy, that was for sure. “What do you see?” he asked. 

Sheppard had his head tilted up. “Stars.” 

“Smart ass,” Jack muttered, and he heard Sheppard snort. “I mean, with future relations. Is an Earth mission coming back at all?” 

There was a pause before Sheppard answered, and Jack could almost hear the gears turning as he decided what to say. “Cam,” he started, glanced at Jack and then back at the stars. “Me and Cam are the only ones on Meropis with real ties to Earth. Cam’s still got family there.” He took a breath. Jack knew that Sheppard had family, too, but apparently they didn’t bear mentioning. Jack kept his peace to see where Sheppard was going with this. “Rodney's Team," Sheppard continued, and Jack heard the capital letter and knew exactly what it meant, with Daniel on a damaged spaceship and Jack having no way to fix it. Sheppared glanced briefly at him again. "Both Rodney and Radek, they don't see their families on Earth much. Teyla'll probably let them choose. I mean, Teyla and Ronon had close ties to Atlantis once, and the Athosians in the city mostly feel good about you all. But recent events…” Sheppard shrugged. “You might want to start thinking about what Pegasus would gain from the Tau'ri coming back here. What you could offer, not what you could get out of it.” 

Sheppard turned toward Jack, eyebrows up in a _Do you get what I’m saying?_ kind of look, and walked back through the door, leaving Jack on the balcony. “Well, shit,” Jack said aloud. It was the most he'd heard Sheppard say. Half the man's conversation with Mitchell had been in significant looks, and that last look Sheppard had left him with needed little interpretation. With Meropis up and running, Atlantis wasn’t unique. And with the McKay hologram in Atlantis? Hell, even just hearing how it talked over the radio, Jack could tell the city would never be the same. The hologram, the AI, would have to agree with any plans they might have. Was it like that on Meropis? 

He scanned the sky again, looking for flashes of a battle that was already over, already won by the Meropans before the Daedalus could arrive to help.

And wasn’t that just one hell of a metaphor?

-0-

To be continued


End file.
